A Matter of Time and Opportunity
by EstelRaca
Summary: Healing is a frustrating process, often feeling like two steps forward one step back, but thankfully Godai and Ichijou are there to help him. Then he goes looking for Kaitou. Kamen Rider Decade, Kamen Rider Kuuga main characters. Sequel to "Shades".
1. Interlude One: In Shadow

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kamen Rider. I just love the shows, especially Decade and Kuuga.

**Author's Note:** This is a direct sequel to "Shades", written as a gift for junebugjive on Livejournal. Reading "Shades" will really help your understanding of what's happening in this story. There are themes of grieving and vengeance explored in this; there are also non-graphic references to torture (it skews slightly darker than "Shades", but if you did well with that this should be all right). The title is from the quote by Hippocrates: "Healing is a matter of time, but sometimes also a matter of opportunity." Hopefully someone enjoys!

_Interlude One: In Shadow_

The thief waits until the man is asleep, unafraid, draped haphazardly over an ornate bed with silk sheets.

It gives him time to deal with the security system and the human guards. It's easier to terrify a man who's half asleep, anyway.

The thief makes no sound until he's ready. The man wakes to a low growl of accusation and the feel of a gun under his chin. "You have something that I want."

The fear is there, at first, though this one wakes too quickly for the screaming to start immediately. His eyes narrow, and his hand scrambles for the weapons that he had placed next to the bed.

Weapons that are no longer there, and the barrel of the gun jams harder into the soft flesh of the man's throat. The thief smiles as the man makes a gurgling sound of frustration. "Stop that."

"Do you know who I am?" The man speaks Japanese with a slight accent, and there is too much indignation and self-righteousness in his tone for fear to have taken hold. "This is the greatest mistake you have ever made in your life. Who are you working for? What are you—"

The man should have been afraid. If he had been afraid, maybe the thief would have managed to hold on to his self-control and waited to shoot him. As it is, the thief's hand caresses the trigger twice, sending one bullet into each of the man's legs.

The screams of agony are good, and there is just a hint of fear in the man's voice now. "You _madman_! How could you—"

"I told you." The thief speaks patiently, placing the gun back under the man's chin. "You have something that I want. A treasure."

"And you think I would have it on me? DaiShocker has anything of value or importance!" The man gasps, moving to cover the bullet holes as blood starts to soak through the sheets.

"Not this. Because it's something you took from your last base, something that the heroes are looking for, and you're all afraid of who might come looking for it." The thief smiles, resisting the urge to pull the trigger just one more time. Not yet, though. Soon, but not yet. "So I think you have it on you, and I think you'll give it me."

"Oh, no." The man's afraid now. That's real terror in his eyes, draining his cheeks of color until he's paler than a ghost in the moonlight. "You're him. You're the one who—"

It's so hard not to shoot. Patience, though. If he's to get what he wants, he needs patience. "Tell me where it is."

"Kaitou Daiki! That's who you are!" The man raises bloody hands, surrendering. Not bloody enough, though, not by half, not for all that he's done and helped do. "The thief who made off with Diend."

"Does _this_ look like Diend?" In one quick motion he pulls the ornate gun away from the man's head, sending another bullet into the man's left arm. The gun may be gold-plated and jewel-encrusted, but it's a treasure that's incredibly functional and good at its job. "I'm nothing to you. I'm nameless. I'm the thief who wants the information on Kadoya Tsukasa, Onodera Yuusuke, and any other Riders that you thought it would be fun to torture."

"Please, it's just work. Tsukasa did as bad if not worse, and you _traveled _with him!" The man's crying, tears of pain and terror, and his voice is desperately pleading.

"I told you." It's so hard not to pull the trigger, but at least the man's afraid now. At least he's living through a little of the terror he gave his victims. "I'm not the man you think I am. I came here for a reason. Give me the data, and give me the cards you have from DecaDriver."

"I can't. They'd never forgive me." The man sobs the negative, good hand shifting between his injuries as he tries to determine which is bleeding more. "I can bring you back into the fold. I can get you your position in DaiShocker back, like it was before you stole Diend. We'll stop hunting you. Whatever you want. We'll leave you alone."

"I _am_ alone!" The pistol cracks across the man's cheek, and the scientist's breath hisses out in a gurgling sigh as the thief steps back, restraining himself. "Now. I told you what I want. Give it to me."

"In the wall safe." The man's words are slurred now, possibly from a broken jaw. Good.

"The combination." The thief moves to the indicated wall as the scientist provides the combination. He wastes no time opening the safe, keeping the gun focused on his target the entire time.

There are three computer chips, two thick files, and four cards in the safe. The thief uses his left hand to place everything in his backpack; his right hand is busy keeping the gun locked on target.

When he's ready he hefts the bag back onto his shoulder. Returning to the side of the bed, he presses the gun once more under the man's chin. "Call for your men. Beg for their help."

"I…"

"_Do it!_"

"Please! For the love of all that's holy, there's a madman in here! Help me! Please!" The man's eyes flick to the door, hope springing into his expression.

"I killed them."

The hope dies, the man's cries trailing off into soft whimpers.

It's not entirely true. A few he chased off; one he bought; only a handful actually needed to die. This man doesn't get to know that, though. "I killed every last person who could have come to your aid. Their blood is soaking into your beautifully maintained carpet."

Their blood is all over the pictures they use to travel, all over the walls, except this is some_where_ else, some_when_ else, he's some_one_ else, and he isn't going to think of that.

The scientist is staring at him, shivering slightly, in shock. Another backhand strike with the gun solves that problem, and the thief grins his trademark grin as he stares into the frightened man's dilated eyes. "No one's going to find their corpses, though. Just like no one's going to find yours. I'm going to make everything disappear, just like a bad dream. Now, beg me not to kill you. If you're adamant enough, maybe I won't do it."

The man begs, because he's a scientist with no scruples, no loyalties, and no understanding of what it means to love something outside himself.

The thief shoots him once in the head before leaving, but somehow seeing the scientist's broken body doesn't make anything better.


	2. Part One: Hold On

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kamen Rider; I just love a lot of the franchise.

"_Hold on to what is good in life, even if it's only a handful of earth." –Hopi prayer_

Part One: Hold On

Taking Onodera Yuusuke home isn't as easy as it feels like it should be.

The afternoon had been rough. As soon as they pulled Onodera out of his prison, all the Riders who had spent the better part of a month guarding him had wanted to see him. It was a normal, human reaction. It was something Ichijou could understand, had seen before. And at least the Riders wanted to see the man they had saved—it was infinitely better than all the gawkers and on-lookers who always seemed to magically appear at crime scenes.

The attention was something that terrified Onodera, though, sent him scrambling for the nearest wall whenever anyone other than Godai got within three meters of him.

Godai ran interference like a trained officer, smiling and talking with the others while placing his own body between them and his silent, frightened brother. The Riders were smarter and kinder than most crowds would be, too—maybe because of what they'd each been through in their own wars. Once they saw how scared Onodera was they backed off, splitting into factions. Most went back to their own worlds.

A handful are still guarding the facility where Onodera had been kept prisoner. Ichijou knows why, but he tries not to think about it.

They won't be locking Onodera back up. They're not cruel enough to do that. If he isn't able to handle things, then…

The evening goes slightly better than the afternoon, though not as smooth as Godai and Ichijou had hoped. Ichijou opens the door between worlds into the center of his apartment. Dragging Onodera through crowds on the street, forcing him to pass close by people in the hallway, is distinctly unappealing.

The young man shivers as the grey washes over them, marking the transport between worlds. His eyes dance around the small one-bedroom apartment with a terror and desperate need to know his surroundings that makes Ichijou's heart ache.

There isn't much for Onodera to see. The front door provides a demarcation between the kitchen and the living room, with the closed door to the tiny bedroom directly across from the front door. The kitchen also contains the dining area, with a small square table tucked up against the wall. They'll be able to fit three people at it if they don't mind sitting close together, though. The living room is more cluttered than the kitchen, with a couch tucked up against the side wall facing a small television, a coffee table in front of the couch that has papers spread across it, and two bookcases that are threatening to overflow flanking the small window.

Ichijou feels a moment of uncomfortable self-awareness as Onodera's eyes take in and categorize everything. This is his home. What does the young man see? What does Godai see and think?

Onodera's eyes linger in the living room, on the couch. On the far side of the couch, in the corner of the room, where he can see everything, and Ichijou feels his heart break again even before Onodera speaks.

"Ya—… Ichijou-san. Could I…?" He doesn't meet Ichijou's eyes when he asks the question. He doesn't even finish the question, just taking a small step toward the couch until Godai and Ichijou's hands pull him up short.

Ichijou lets go immediately, reaching over to touch Godai's fingers. For one tense moment Godai stares at him, the first hint of frustration showing in the tightness of his jaw.

Then Godai releases Onodera's hand, and the younger man bolts to the couch, perching in the far corner. His eyes continue to scan the room, wide and wary, but after a few seconds his shoulders relax.

He could look almost normal, a young man sitting with his feet tucked under him on the couch. If he had a gaming system in hand… if his eyes didn't flit around so much… if he wasn't so acutely aware of where the door was, and where the other people in the room were…

If it wasn't a position and a posture that Ichijou's used himself, alone with a drink or ten, fighting off demons that aren't real. It's the safest, most defensible part of Ichijou's apartment aside from the bedroom, with no possibility of anyone sneaking up on you.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, trying to kill the headache that's growing there, Ichijou takes his shoes off and sets them carefully by the front door. Godai follows him, mimics his actions, but it's clear where Godai's attention and focus are.

If the connection between the two brothers was any stronger, Ichijou's sure he could reach out and grab it.

"He's all right." Ichijou speaks at a normal volume. Godai's senses are sometimes more acute than they should be, and the last thing Ichijou wants Onodera to think is that they're plotting something they don't want him to know. "He's just tired. Give him time to relax."

"I know." Godai's fists clench, just briefly. "He's all right. I just… I want him to know he doesn't have to be scared. I want him to know he's safe here. That's all."

Ichijou catches a smile flit across Onodera's face, there and then gone.

"I know." Onodera speaks quietly, and Ichijou has to move closer to make sure he can hear the words. "I know this is safe. This is Ya—Ichijou's place. And you're here. But there's so much… space. So many people. So many… _things_."

Ichijou looks away from the young man, just for a moment. Just long enough to get the frustrated fury to go away again, because it won't help here. The fact that Onodera thinks of a small one-bedroom apartment as too large and spacious doesn't matter. The fact that he's afraid of having two people near him at the same time doesn't matter. The fact that he finds Ichijou's not-quite-Spartan living space to be too cluttered doesn't matter.

All that matters is that he's talking, and interacting, and no longer locked in that damn room that DaiShocker built as his own special prison.

"Do you like to read?" Ichijou looks at the young man as he asks the question. A nice neutral question, skirting around everything that they need to talk about in the future but not now, and it gets another smile from Onodera.

Onodera shrugs, hugging his knees to his chest. "I guess. I used to, at least. I haven't had much chance to… the last few years…"

Godai is at Onodera's side between one breath and the next, moving with a speed just slightly too fast to be human. Sitting on the couch next to the younger version of himself, Godai places an arm around Onodera's shoulders, drawing him close as Onodera's hands move up to cover his ears and his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

"Hush, Yuusuke. It's all right." Godai's voice is low, gentle, soothing.

Ichijou isn't sure why what he said got that kind of reaction, but he feels a stab of guilt all the same. "I'm sorry, Yuusuke."

Both men react at the name, and Ichijou suddenly isn't sure which he's apologizing to—the younger one for saying something that apparently brushed at old wounds, or the older for not being able to make this any easier.

"It's not… your fault. You were just talking. And it isn't the books, or the reading, and I'm glad you were trying to talk to me like a not-crazy person." Onodera shakes his head, opening his eyes, though he keeps his hands firm against his ears. "There's just… so many people. I can hear them all. Eating dinner, and watching TV, and doing homework, and helping with homework, and playing games, and taking showers, and…"

Ichijou knows what the next _and_would have been as the young man's face flushes bright red. Even if Onodera had intended to say it, though, the words are cut off by tears.

"I miss them." Onodera's voice breaks, and he cries like Godai cries, those few times he's allowed himself the luxury. Open, aching, tears that are escaping because the hurt is finally too great to bear alone, and Ichijou doesn't intend to move over to the couch.

This boy isn't Godai. This boy may be Kuuga, and he may be a mirror of Godai's soul, but he's his own person with his own pains and fears and losses.

Ichijou reminds himself of that as he slips his arm around Onodera's shoulders, sandwiching the boy between himself and Godai. This boy doesn't really know him. He might react badly to being touched, to having someone new in his personal space, but it's impossible not to try to comfort him when he's looking so much like a broken version of—

"I missed you." Onodera's face is suddenly buried against Ichijou's neck, his hands clinging to the detective's shirt. "I tried so hard, I tried to do what you wanted, Yashiro, I smiled and I tried to help them but it _hurt_so much and I kept failing and… and…"

The young man pulls away while Ichijou's still trying to figure out what he should _do_. Does he continue to try to comfort Onodera? Does he correct him about who he's clinging to?

"I'm sorry." Onodera's hands are still clenched in Ichijou's shirt, his head hanging down so his hair covers his eyes and blocks his expression. "I know you're not Yashiro Kaoru. You're Ichijou Kaoru. You're Godai's. This is all just… overwhelming."

Godai's fingers are firm as they pry Onodera's hands away from Ichijou's shirt, and Ichijou catches a hint of fear in Godai's expression as he pulls his brother away from the detective. Godai's voice is still gentle, though. "It's all right, Yuusuke. It's been a long day. You're tired. Why don't we get dinner and call it a night early?"

"That would be good. I've got work tomorrow, anyway." Placing a hand on Onodera's shoulder as he stands, Ichijou offers the young man a tentative smile. "I'll try not to wake you when I get up."

"It's all right." Onodera keeps his head down, his hands pressed against his ears again. "I'm usually one of the first ones up, anyway. Tsukasa's damn near impossible… was… it'll be _fine_."

The last statement is said in a rush, with fierce determination behind the words.

Ichijou doesn't say anything as he heads into the kitchen to find something for dinner. What is there left to say? Either things will be fine, or they won't be.

For all their sakes, Ichijou desperately hopes everything turns out all right.

XXXXXXXX

Onodera Yuusuke almost burns Ichijou's apartment building to the ground that night.

Onodera and Godai had opted to sleep in the living room. Onodera was happy on the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket and taking up residence in the same corner where he had spent most of the evening. Godai had simply shrugged, grabbed a bed roll, and taken up residence on the floor at the opposite end of the couch.

Ichijou sleeps well in his bedroom until two in the morning, when a combination of screaming and the smell of smoke wakes him from a sound sleep.

Godai holds Onodera tightly while the younger man screams. The couch and one of the bookcases burn, filling the room with a cloying, choking haze of smoke. Even given the fire, though, the entire apartment is far too warm, much warmer than the gentle spring night outside suggests it should be.

Grabbing his fire extinguisher from the kitchen, Ichijou attempts to get the flames under control.

It works. Maybe it shouldn't have—probably it shouldn't have, if this was any natural fire, but Ichijou's bitterly certain this wasn't started by a carelessly placed electrical cord or a forgotten cigarette butt.

It's only after the crackle of merrily burning paper ceases that he can hear Godai's quiet litany, _no_repeated over and over and over as he continues to hold Onodera's body still.

The fire alarm of course chooses that moment to recognize the smoke in the room, sounding off with a shrill, desperate wail that earns an answering cry from Onodera.

"_No!_" Godai's voice is a whip, cracking over the smoke alarm as he slams the struggling younger man to the floor. "Yuusuke, stop it! Look at where you are! Look at what you're doing! Damn it, Yuusuke, don't make me hurt you!"

Ripping the batteries out of the smoke alarm makes it stop, but it also means that Ichijou can hear Onodera's desperate whimpers and Godai's frustrated growls more clearly.

"_Yuusuke_."

Ichijou speaks with the quiet, firm voice of authority, tossing the smoke alarm onto the table before walking towards the two men. Both have frozen, looking toward him at his use of their given name. "It's all right. Everyone's all right. Right, Onodera?"

The younger man nods slowly, dilated eyes contracting back down to a reasonable level. He starts trembling, though, and if Ichijou's learned anything about reading this man from Godai's expressions then guilt and shame are currently doing a number on him.

"Let him up, Godai."

Godai hesitates, just a faint touch of fear on his face, and maybe bringing Onodera here wasn't the brightest idea they ever had. There are some things that Godai wouldn't take losing well, and all of them are currently in Tokyo and thus in danger if Onodera truly loses control.

Sighing, Ichijou reaches out and touches Godai's shoulder comfortingly. "He's all right now. Right, Onodera?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry, though. I'm so sorry—"

"No. It's all right." They can deal with regrets and recriminations later. They can deal with the fact that his apartment's a mess later. Right now, Ichijou just wants to get everyone's temper under control, so maybe it won't feel so much like an explosive sauna in here. "I'm going to open the window, let some of the smoke out. Godai's going to let you up. Right, Godai?"

He has the window open before Godai finally grunts out a reluctant assent, moving off the younger man so that Onodera can rise. Godai's hands go to his head, ruffle his hair frantically for a moment, and Ichijou's no longer certain that it's Onodera causing him to feel like he's working on disarming a bomb.

"I'm…" Godai draws a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh that sounds more like a growl. "Are you all right, Yuusuke?"

Onodera nods slowly, breathing in quick, shallow breaths as he watches Godai. "I'm all right. I'm in control again. I'm sorry—"

"I'm going for a walk."

Godai moves with inhuman speed, reaching the entryway before Ichijou can think of anything to say. Godai doesn't pause to put on a shirt or shoes, opening the door and skittering around the manager who has his hand raised to knock as though Grongi were chasing him.

And maybe they are, but they aren't ones that Ichijou can fell with a well-placed bullet.

"Is everything all right?" The apartment manager is a kindly old man, someone that Ichijou has liked in their few interactions. "There were reports of an alarm going off, and I thought I smelled smoke…"

"Just an accident." Ichijou smiles, moving over to stand in front of the door, blocking the man's view of Onodera and the evidence of the fire. He tries to speak reasonably, like this was any other conversation, like he isn't standing in his boxers and the old man isn't wearing a robe over pajama pants. "I have it under control. I can report it to the fire department, and of course I'll pay for any damage that was done to the building, but I don't think it's too bad. It's something that we can talk about in the morning, perhaps?"

"Ah… I suppose, detective. You're sure there's no danger? We don't need to evacuate everyone?"

Ichijou can feel his stomach twist into a knot, and he's suddenly acutely aware of Onodera's eyes on his back. "There's no danger. I'm certain. Again, I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

"All right." The old man nods, apparently pacified. "You've always been a good tenant, detective. Always on time with your rent, always helping out when anyone needs it, giving this place a little bit more security… just be careful, all right? And if you ever need help with any ruffians…"

The old man's eyes gaze down the hallway, where Godai has long since disappeared down the stairs.

"No." Ichijou can feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite the grim situation. The idea of Godai ever being a threat to him is just… ludicrous. "He's just an old friend, who brought his brother to see me for a little bit."

"Ah, well… guests can only stay for a week, remember." The old man nods once, decisively, as though he's somehow solved a problem. "And make sure you get me an official report of the damage as well as the money for repairs. Have a good morning, detective."

Clearly having dismissed him, the old man stomps back the way he had come, and Ichijou hastily closes the door before any of his neighbors decide to find out what all the fuss has been about.

Onodera sits in the middle of the decimated living room. The coffee table was overturned sometime during his struggle with Godai, though it managed to miss knocking the television over by a miracle. The couch is a total loss, half of it devoured by fire before being covered in foam. One bookcase and its contents are also a loss, and the contents of the other bookcase, though not burned, may have suffered smoke damage. The wall appears to be intact, though the paint and drywall have bubbled and run from the heat of the fire.

The smoke's clearing out well, though, a fresh, cool breeze coming in through the window. The temperature's dropped at least twenty degrees in the room since he opened the window. And Tokyo is still beautiful from ten stories up, a sea of multicolored stars amid the mountainous crags of skyscrapers.

"I'm sorry." Onodera bows low to the floor, and though his clothes have burn marks his skin and hair look unscathed. "I'll find a way to pay for the damages, Ichijou-san."

"It's all right." Sighing, Ichijou walks into the kitchen. Getting two glasses of water, he sets them on the table before taking one seat and gesturing at the other. "I knew what I was risking when I told Godai I'd take you in."

"You knew that the crazy man might accidentally burn your house down around your ears?" Onodera slinks to the seat, head still held down. "You're a brave man to accept that proposition, detective."

It's strange, hearing the word _detective _from Onodera's mouth. It sounds almost but not quite the way Godai would say it, and Ichijou shakes his head before taking a drink. If he didn't have to work in five hours, something stronger than water would definitely be called for. "There's nothing brave about helping someone in need who's right in front of you. It's just human."

"There are people who do some awful things." Onodera turns his glass slowly between his hands, staring into the depths of the water as though they could tell him some secret. "Lawyers who twist the law. Doctors who won't treat AIDS patients. Scientists who think… who do bad things."

It's a child's way of phrasing it, but not a child's pain. _Do bad things_. Torture me, torture my friends, use me to kill my friends, and Ichijou wishes once more that he could erase the last two months for this young man.

"You're a brave person." Raising his head, Onodera shoves his hair away from his eyes and behind his ears. His hair's long, far longer than Godai has ever kept his, and Ichijou isn't sure how much of that is by choice and how much is just two months of captivity making cutting it not much of an option. "You're always a brave man."

"You knew me in your world." It's not a safe topic. Godai had said that Onodera's detective died during the Grongi War.

But nothing's a safe topic right now, and it's something Ichijou's wanted to ask the young man for a long time.

"Yeah." Onodera smiles again, a grin of delight tempered by an old edge of sorrow. This loss is an older wound for him, one that he can handle. "Her name was Yashiro Kaoru. She helped me fight the Grongi. I saved her, when they first appeared. I'd never been so scared or uncertain in my life as when I was thinking about jumping into that fight, but she was… she was gorgeous. So vibrant, but controlled, facing them without flinching, getting everyone who was with her to act together, and when the Grongi threatened her… I couldn't help but jump in. She helped me figure out my different forms, and had a friend of hers at the local hospital check me out, and just generally tried to take care of me. Not that I really needed taking care of, but she thought I did. She thought I was too cavalier about things, but she was always nice to me. Right up to the end, she was so…"

The young man trails off, smile fading into an expression of soft sorrow.

"I'm sorry." It's a wholly inadequate statement, just like it always is, and Ichijou frowns. Reaching across the table, he places his hand on Onodera's forearm. It's not something he would usually do, but this young man needs more than inadequate words. Especially if Ichijou doesn't want the rest of his apartment going up in flames, too. "She sounds like a great woman, and I'm honored that you see a shadow of her in me."

"She was a great woman. Just like you're a great guy." Onodera's smile flashes again, a brief moment of joy before his head bows down again. "But I understand if you or Godai want me to leave. I thought I could control it better, but obviously…"

"What happened?" Pulling his hand back to his side of the table, Ichijou takes a drink.

"Nightmares." Onodera shrugs, thumbnail scratching at his glass. "Usually Tsukasa or Natsumi would wake me up, but I left them behind. I had to leave them behind, it was what they wanted, but… it's so lonely. I feel like they've just died, like I've just lost them today and it hasn't been months."

Because he has just lost them. Whether the ghosts of Kadoya Tsukasa and Hikari Natsumi were real or not—and Ichijou isn't sure, every time he thinks back on it, if what he heard and Godai saw was a trick, a shared hallucination, or really their spirits—they had provided Onodera Yuusuke with comfort during his imprisonment. And now he's left them behind, lost that company again. Or he's lost them for the first time, finally acknowledged the terrible blow that DaiShocker gave him.

Either way, it has to be hard on the young man, and Ichijou reaches over to touch his arm again for a moment. "I'm sorry. Godai and I should have thought of that, of how hard it would be for you to say goodbye to them."

"So you could have done what? It's not your fault I have nightmares and these… these…" The young man searches for a word, frustration evident in his face and the way his fingers continue to scratch against the water glass. "_Stupid_ panic attacks. It's not your fault that I taught myself to _burn_everything when I was angry or frightened. It's mine. It's my control that slipped, and I'm sorry you have to pay the price."

Ichijou rubs at his eyes, giving himself a moment of calm with the illusion of privacy while he tries to think of what to say. He's not cut out for this. He's not a psychiatrist. But he doesn't know a psychiatrist who could handle all that Onodera Yuusuke would bring to the table—other worlds, Riders, the entire bloody tangled mess that was Kadoya Tsukasa's story—without thinking Yuusuke and anyone who believed him were delusional.

All he has are his own gut feelings about this, and he'll have to trust them. "It's not your fault. The panic attacks, the damage—none of it's your fault. You did what you had to do to survive and to minimize the damage they made you do to innocents. I know… how hard unlearning things can be. There were a lot of us who had… problems readjusting after the Grongi war. I shot a man—a thief, a man who beat someone to death for having the gall to try to defend their home and then took another person prisoner. I would have shot him anyway, to save the woman. But I didn't shoot him because he was an awful human being and it was my only option. I shot him because it was what I _did_. Because when there was a call, and it was a Grongi, you lined up the shot and you took it. You didn't think. Take the time to think, and you and everyone within thirty feet of you was dead or wishing they were dead. You just made sure it wasn't Yongo, wasn't a civilian, and you shot."

Gods above, he wishes the water was something significantly more alcoholic. It's been years and years since the Grongi war. It's been a long time since he last shot like that, since he had to be _afraid_ and _aware_like that. It's been a long time since he sat by Godai's bloody body in the snow, and felt like the whole world had gone mad.

A long time, but some scars never really healed. They just stopped hurting as much given time.

"You'll be all right." Ichijou raises his eyes to meet Onodera's, smiling at the younger man. "Like all of us, you'll never be the same, but it'll get better. It'll hurt less. And eventually you'll be all right. You'll never be who you were before, who you could have been, but you'll still be someone that you can recognize and live with."

"I hope so, Ichijou-san." Onodera raises his head to meet Ichijou's gaze squarely. "I really hope so. Especially since… I'm… he… I'm not a good influence right now for Godai."

"Godai's going to be all right." Ichijou smiles, filling his voice and expression with a certainty he doesn't quite feel. He won't doubt Godai, though. They lived through Daguva together; they'll get through this, too. "He's just exhausted. He'll be back in a little bit, and you'll see. He'll be fine."

"He ran out without socks or shoes or a shirt, in the pants he was sleeping in, because what I did almost made him lose control." Onodera sits perfectly still, reciting the words as though they don't matter, though a sheen of tears covers his eyes. "After all he's done for me, I almost dragged him over the edge with me."

"Stop pitying yourself for something that hasn't happened." The reprimand comes out sharper than Ichijou intended, and he winces as Onodera shrinks back, head dropping down until it's almost level with the table edge. "Yuusuke, don't… I'm sorry. Just don't start blaming yourself for things that haven't happened. If Godai's really having trouble, he'll tell me and we'll deal with it. No sense feeling guilt for something that hasn't happened yet."

Not when Onodera already carries enough guilt for things that weren't his fault, deaths he caused but didn't want to, and Ichijou reaches over again to grab the younger man's hand.

They sit like that for almost a minute, until Onodera relaxes slightly, turning his hand over so their fingers are clasped together. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Standing, Ichijou gently disentangles his fingers from Onodera's and gathers both water cups to put in the sink. "I think we've had enough excitement for the middle of the night. Let's head back to bed."

"But what about—"

"I'll leave the door unlocked for him. He's smart enough to lock it after he comes in." Ichijou at least hopes that's true, though thinking of how Godai frequently prances through life makes him frown and reconsider. Well, even if Godai leaves the door unlocked, anyone trying to break in with the intent to harm would find themselves with much larger problems than they intended, and it's not like there's much worth stealing in the apartment.

Especially now.

"Where…" Onodera looks around sheepishly. "Where should I sleep? _Should_ I sleep? Maybe I should stay awake, sleep during the day when Godai's around to wake me if it looks like…"

It is far too late at night to have to deal with these problems, especially when the morning is going to present problems of its own. He doesn't need to tell Onodera that, though. Looking like you have a vague idea of what you're doing is usually good enough to give people a sense of comfort and well-being, even if you're in over your head.

"You'll sleep in my room. I'll wake you up if you have a nightmare."

Onodera stares at him as though he's lost his mind. "Ichijou-san… do you have any idea how incredibly dangerous that is?"

Yes. He watched Godai fight Daguva twice. He only has to look over at his living room to see what Onodera can do. "You won't hurt me, Yuusuke."

"You know that's what Tsukasa said." Onodera's voice cracks, just a little, and his eyes drop away. "When they used that damn stone and told me to kill him. He said I was his, and he said that I wouldn't hurt him. And then I beat him to death with my own hands. I _tortured_him to death for their entertainment and education."

"That wasn't you, Yuusuke." Standing in front of the younger man, Ichijou holds out his hand. "You're a hero. You were Tsukasa's friend. Anything they made you do to Tsukasa was _not_your fault."

"Ah." Onodera hesitates a moment before taking Ichijou's hand and hauling himself to his feet. "I _know_ you're right. Godai's been telling me that for the last few weeks. Tsukasa told me that, and said he was sorry, which was ridiculous because he didn't do anything wrong. But it still… I still _feel_like I can't trust myself."

"Eventually you will. Just give yourself time." Ichijou leads the younger man into the bedroom. Letting go of Onodera's hand, Ichijou starts rearranging the bedroom so that a second set of bedding will fit. He hesitates a moment before rearranging everything again, certain that Godai will join them once he gets back from his… walk.

Settling down in the center bedroll, listening to the quiet sounds of the building around him, Ichijou wills himself to sleep.

Things always look better in the morning, even if it's a morning faced with too little sleep and too much worrying.

XXXXXXXX

Godai gets home sometime around three thirty in the morning.

Ichijou wishes he didn't know that. Staring at the ceiling for the last forty-five minutes has not been the greatest time of his life.

Onodera's sleeping, though. That's a positive. The young man's sleeping with his head pillowed against Ichijou's chest, but even that's all right. It's obvious that Onodera needs the human contact, to feel like he's not alone, especially after everything that's happened. Hell, Ichijou's woken up in equally awkward positions with Godai before.

_Why is my head on your shoulder?_

_Why shouldn't it be?_

He smiles at Godai's silhouette in the bedroom door, thinking about that conversation. Not their first, but one of their first, and somehow it managed to sum up a large part of their relationship.

Why has X strange thing occurred?

Why shouldn't it?

"You should be asleep, Ichijou." Godai's voice is quiet, smooth, barely audible. "Unless you're going to call in sick tomorrow."

"I've worked on less sleep." Granted, that's usually in the middle or at the end of a case, but it can't be that much harder starting something sleep-deprived than it is finishing it. "I'll be all right. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Tired." Godai smiles sheepishly. "Embarrassed. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. I'm sorry."

"Onodera and I did just fine." It's even true, more or less. "Where did you go?"

"Around." Yuusuke shrugs. "I stopped two muggings, broke up a fight between cats, and gave a lot of drunk people something to wonder about in the morning."

"You've got blood on your feet." Ichijou frowns, picking out the dark stains in the moonlight.

"That's what happens when you walk barefoot over broken glass, apparently." Smiling, Godai picks each foot up. "Don't worry, totally healed, and I made sure not to track any glass into the building."

"Did anyone see you do anything…" Kuuga-ish is not a word he is going to use, ever, unless Godai does something ridiculously stupid. "Anything that's going to make people talk?"

"Like I said, I kind of played vigilante. Which I know I shouldn't have done, but it felt… good. I made sure not to hurt anyone, and I don't think anyone got a good enough look at me to get a positive ID, and _no_, I didn't do anything overtly super-human. Does that cover the interrogation?" Godai's grinning ear to ear, obviously pleased with himself, still not understanding the utter seriousness with which Ichijou guards Yongo's identity.

He should. Especially after the stories he heard from Shouichi's world, Godai should understand that maintaining Yongo's anonymity is desperately important.

But if he did, he wouldn't be Godai Yuusuke.

Ichijou sighs, unconsciously tightening his arm around the younger version of Godai nestled against his side. "Go clean your feet and legs up so you're not getting blood all over the floor. I don't like mopping the floor during the week."

"If I got any blood on the floor, I'll make sure to clean it up." Godai sketches a quick bow before ducking into the bathroom.

It's only five minutes or so before Godai crawls into the bedroll next to Ichijou.

"I'm sorry about what happened." Godai's voice is still quiet, almost apologetic now. "I shouldn't have had to run away like that. I shouldn't have _needed_to. I just… had these expectations. Unfair expectations, that once we got away from that place everything would be better. But healing doesn't work like that. So don't blame yourself, Yuusuke. Just know… you're still welcome here. And what happened with me was my fault, not yours."

Ichijou frowns, trying to crane his head and get a view of Onodera's face. He hadn't felt the younger man tense at all when waking.

"It's all right." Onodera also speaks quietly, his words soft huffs of air against Ichijou's chest. "I'm really glad… really grateful and really glad that you trust me this much."

"How could I not?" Godai smiles again as he reaches over Ichijou's body to grab his brother's hand.

"Easy. By deciding not to." It's clear that Onodera's smiling, and he relaxes just slightly against Ichijou, fingers flexing tentatively around Godai's hand. "All that you've done for me in the last month… all that _both_of you've done for me. I couldn't ask for kinder people, or for a better big brother."

Onodera buries his face against Ichijou's chest again as soon as he says the word _brother_. He doesn't let go of Godai's hand, though.

"You're a fantastic little brother. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from all of this. But I promise, no matter what happens, we'll get through it." Godai's voice is calmer, his words almost slurred, and Ichijou realizes that the man's falling asleep.

Falling asleep curled up on the opposite side of Ichijou from Onodera, with one arm draped across Ichijou still to touch his younger brother.

Ichijou tries to make it a quiet sigh as he shifts into a more comfortable position and resumes his staring contest with the ceiling. If it'll let the two of them get more sleep, he supposes he's fine being in the middle of a Kuuga huddle.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. All he knows is that he wakes to his alarm clock two hours later, still sandwiched in the middle of a comfortably warm Yuusuke sandwich. Onodera tenses at the alarm, but he doesn't set anything on fire. Ichijou's not even sure the man really wakes entirely, given the ease with which Ichijou guides him down to sleep again curled next to Godai.

Ichijou decides as he showers and dresses for work that neither of the still-sleeping men ever needs to know that the two hours before his alarm went off were two of the most restful hours of sleep Ichijou's ever had in his life.


	3. Interlude Two: In Ice

**Disclaimer:** Kamen Rider belongs to Toei.

_Interlude Two: In Ice_

The thief waits nine days between killing the first scientist and the second one.

He needs the time to plan out what he's going to do. This next target's home is larger, more heavily defended, especially after he hears the news about the other scientist. That confirms that they're talking to each other between worlds, at least. There's no place that's so well-defended or well-planned that it can be kept safe from a master thief who's intimately familiar with the technology DaiShocker has available _and_ has the ability to slip between worlds as needed, though.

(He doesn't care that nine days is the length of time they kept Kadoya Tsukasa alive. It's just the way things worked out.)

He kills everyone as he works his way into the building. He doesn't have a choice. Any alarm raised will give his prey an opportunity to escape, and he can't risk that.

The fact that most of the guards are monsters of one kind or another makes the task slightly easier, at least. Blood that isn't red reminds him less of things he's running away from.

It's two fifty-eight in the morning when he finally reaches the man's bedroom. He doesn't waste time between killing the last guard and charging inside. He won't give this man any opening to escape.

The scientist is already awake, cold eyes assessing the thief as the bedroom door flies open. The scientist has some kind of gun in hand, raises it to aim, but the thief's faster. Even with the simple mechanical gun that he carries on these missions, he's a better fighter than the madmen he hunts, and the scientist has two bullets in his right arm before his hand can bring the weapon to bear properly.

The man's smart, the thief has to give him credit for that. As soon as the shots have found their target, the scientist tries to run between worlds. The grey washes over the man as the thief's still running toward him, but that's all right.

The thief is very good at slipping between worlds, especially with all the new information he got from his last heist.

A quarry, a river, the darkness of an abandoned building, the stars at night in the desert, the center of a busy city, all flash around them as the man tries to run. He can't escape from the thief, though. The thief _knows_ him, has every piece of information about the man that could possibly be gleaned, and the thief doesn't lose eye contact with his prey.

Eventually the scientist brings them back to the bedroom, and the thief smiles as he shoves the warm barrel of the gun between the man's eyes. "That was fun."

"Go to hell." The man's words are clipped, though he doesn't have an accent like the first one did. "I assume you're here to do to me what you did to Javier, monster?"

"Monster?" The gun slips down, placing another bullet through the scientist's left shoulder before rising again to point between his eyes. "_You're_ calling _me_ a monster? Why? Because I could travel between worlds better than you?"

"Because you murdered a friend of mine." The man's black eyes continue to be icy cold, and he does nothing to staunch the flow of blood from any of his wounds. "Because you came after him in the dead of night, killed his most loyal servants, and tortured him until he died in a puddle of his own urine. You're a monster."

"I learned how to travel between worlds from the best, you know." The thief won't answer the man's accusations. He won't think about the man's accusations, because that would involve thinking about other things that have happened. "Tsukasa chose me from my world. He brought me into DaiShocker. I got my abilities first-hand, from the source, without any… coercion being involved."

The thief's breathing too hard, has let himself get too caught up in things that don't matter anymore. His ability to travel between worlds is _his_, nothing more, nothing less, and the honing that he's done with it over the last few days was what allowed him to follow the scientist. Taking a deep breath and a step back, he smiles and settles his aim for a lower point on the man's face.

The scientist merely continues to stare at him, angry, bitter, vindictive, and powerless.

It's the powerlessness that the thief likes, though he wishes there was fear. That's all right, though. Eventually there will be fear. There's still plenty of time left in the night. "Tell me where your copies are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The man's eyes don't flick away, don't look down, don't do any of the usual tell-tale signs of lying.

If the thief didn't know better, he'd actually believe the monster in front of him. "We can do this one of two ways. You can tell me now, and I can only torture you a little. Or you can refuse to tell me, and I can torture you a lot. Which do you prefer?"

The man doesn't answer.

That's all right. The thief doesn't mind doing what he has to.

He doesn't think while he works. He doesn't let himself listen to the man's voice, except for those times when he's asking for the information he needs.

(He doesn't hear their voices. The taped sessions don't matter.)

((_Don't, Yuusuke… I'm sorry, Tsukasa, I'm sorry…_))

He doesn't think about the color of the man's blood.

(It was all dark, anyway, by the time he returned to _that place_, dried into the carpet and onto the wall in shades of brown and black and deep maroon.)

He just does what he needs to do.

The scientist dies before giving him the information, and the thief spends ten minutes beating his knuckles bloody against the man's vacant eyes before making himself take a step back.

It's all right. It doesn't matter. Nothing that's happened and nothing that he's done matters.

It takes the thief ten minutes of pacing around the room, rubbing the blood off his hands on the wall, before he realizes what he needs to do.

He's been stealing things for years without always knowing exactly where the treasure lies or how to get it free. It takes him a few hours, but eventually he finds the safe, and he has enough experience and tools at his disposal to work his way inside.

The thief goes through all of the files once he's back in his lair, because there might be something new, something important that wasn't in the original set he stole.

Then he starts planning the next heist, because none of Shocker's various incarnations or people deserve to have the information they're trying to preserve.


	4. Part Two: Keep Going

**Disclaimer:** Kamen Rider belongs to Toei.

"_If you're going through hell, keep going." –Winston Churchill_

Part Two: Keep Going

"Godai Yuusuke, _please_go visit someone else."

Godai stops rambling about some bizarre foreign custom that he and Onodera had seen on television earlier in the day. His expression twists, puzzlement mostly but something that's far too much like fear touching his eyes.

Sighing, Ichijou rubs at his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not kicking you out. I'm not kicking Onodera out. I just think it would be very good for all of us if you were to go see Minori or Sakurako or _anyone else_for a little bit."

_Before you drive me crazy_hangs unsaid in the air, and Ichijou suddenly feels like an awful human being.

It's not Godai's fault. Godai's doing the best he can, living with the constant threat and stress of his younger version's madness spiraling out of control. He's even been incredibly helpful—more helpful than Ichijou had expected at first. Then again, there were only so many skills in the world, so it shouldn't surprise him _that_much that dry-walling, painting, and interior design were all among the three thousand and whatever ungodly talents the man has now. Getting the apartment looking better than it did before the fire only took Godai and Onodera four days, though.

And while Onodera might find huddling in the corner and watching television all day almost too much input, the lack of activity is obviously wearing on Godai. At first it was all right. He was talkative, but Godai could usually be counted on to have something cheerful and uplifting to say.

The last forty-eight hours have been a nightmare, though. Maybe if Ichijou wasn't used to living alone it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe if he was used to having someone else there talking and filling in _every waking moment_with conversation it would be all right.

But he's not, and it _definitely_isn't all right.

Onodera's watching them silently from his corner of the couch. His knees are drawn up, and there's a tautness to his shoulders that Ichijou doesn't like.

Having to watch the young man at all times for signs of stress and discomfort is also starting to wear thin.

And that's _really_unfair, since that's the entire reason he agreed to let Onodera stay here.

Sighing, Ichijou locks the door, takes off his shoes, turns away from both men and heads into the kitchen. He hesitates a moment before taking a beer out of the refrigerator. Maybe just a little bit of alcohol will calm his nerves enough for him to handle this.

He turns around to offer one to Godai only to be brought up short by the almost panicked look on the man's face.

Godai isn't supposed to be afraid. There's something so utterly _wrong_about the situation that Ichijou can't process it for a moment.

"The refrigerator door's still open." Godai gestures weakly toward the door, a small smile breaking the tension in his face. "You should probably close that."

Swinging the door shut with more force than is really necessary, Ichijou sits down at the table and opens the beer. Scowling down at the liquid means he doesn't have to meet anyone else's gaze.

They're going to drive each other crazy—or _crazier_—and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Minori's your sister?" Onodera asks the question quietly. When Ichijou wasn't watching the younger man had silently crept up next to Godai.

"Yeah." Godai smiles, running a hand through his hair. "She's a kindergarten teacher. She's a ton of fun. I think you'd like her and the kids she teaches…"

Godai trails off, looking at Onodera with an expression that can't quite decide if it's worried, despondent, or morbidly… amused isn't quite the right word, but Ichijou's too tired to think of what is.

"Yeah, she died." Onodera shrugs, smiling as though it doesn't matter, though his shoulders are taut again. "In my world. One day you'll mention someone you know and I'll be able to tell you about the differences between your version and mine without having that little disclaimer."

It's not funny. It's sad. It's terribly, horribly sad that this version of Godai somehow ended up so alone.

Which means Ichijou feels even worse about himself as he covers his smile and drowns the bitter laugh that wants to rise in his drink.

For a few blessed moments silence fills the apartment. Godai's hand comes to rest gently on Ichijou's shoulder. "I think you had a bad day at work. Anything you want to talk about?"

"It's nothing the two of you need to hear." They didn't sign up for the job. They've seen enough of the darkness in humanity to last a few lifetimes just trying to deal with what happened to Onodera. They don't need Ichijou's borrowed pain on top of that.

Just like Ichijou shouldn't need the comfort, but somehow it feels nice being able to lean into Godai's hand and close his eyes. It doesn't magically fix anything, but neither would drinking alone in a quiet house, and somehow Godai's solemn, solid presence manages to ease the tight knot in Ichijou's gut.

_This_is what he needed to come home to, not Godai talking a mile a minute about a topic that none of them really care all that much about.

"I really do think you should go see Minori." Opening his eyes, Ichijou offers Godai a rueful smile and a small salute with the beer, trying to silently tell him that things are better now. "I think you're starting to go a little stir-crazy locked up in here."

"I can't." Godai speaks quietly, sheepishly, to a point on the floor at his feet.

"You could." Onodera slides into the chair across from Ichijou. He's still in borrowed clothes from Godai, with the shirt-sleeves rolled up so they aren't hanging over his hands.

They should really get Onodera a wardrobe of his own. Even if he doesn't feel capable of handling shopping centers, they can always order him things from on-line.

And the fact that he just told Godai that it was all right for Godai to leave finally works its way through to Ichijou's conscious mind.

Ichijou joins Godai in staring incredulously at the younger man. Onodera's been glued to Godai's side for the last week with the exception of when they're sleeping, because apparently Ichijou makes a nicer pillow.

"You're sure?" Godai asks the question hesitantly, still sheepish. "Not to try to scare you, I'm grateful you're thinking of me, but if you get scared and I'm not here to help—"

"I won't." Onodera speaks firmly. "I'll be here with Ichijou. Nothing in the apartment's scary. And he's right. You've been getting… agitated isn't the right word. But it's not good for you, being stuck inside the same place with me all the time. If you wanted to go see your sister for a little, I'm fine with that. I think it'd be a good idea. She probably misses you. I know my Minori would have been missing me if I was gone for two months."

It's probably the most Onodera has spoken without prompting in the last week. He doesn't look away from Godai while he talks. He doesn't fiddle with his shirt sleeves. He looks like a completely sane, normal person, and he's saying something that Ichijou could easily see Godai saying.

It's probably sad that this is enough to bring a grin to Ichijou's face, but right now he'll take any little piece of victory and happiness he can get.

"I don't know." Godai hesitates, and there's that edge of fear in his expression again.

Godai isn't supposed to be _afraid_.

Setting the can down with more force than he intended to, Ichijou winces. Rising to his feet, he places both hands on Godai's shoulders and turns the man to face him. "Godai Yuusuke. You are in dire need of a vacation from us. Just go see Minori for a few hours. Then you can come back, and I think it'll be good for everyone. I promise to stay with Onodera, and we'll be fine. We'll watch a movie or something. We won't even notice you were gone."

"You could get called away on an assignment." Godai's voice also has that slight edge of fear. "Or something could happen here, and—"

"I won't hurt him or anything else you love." Onodera has risen, too, his hands clenching briefly into fists at his side. "That's what you've been telling me. Trust me. I think I'm doing well enough to handle this."

Godai's gaze flicks from Onodera to Ichijou. "You're sure?"

Ichijou nods, offering Godai a slight smile and a clap on the shoulder. "Go on. You're not supposed to be trapped in one place for so long, traveler. It's doing bad things to you."

"If I had to be trapped in one place, I'd choose wherever you are." Godai says the words with a grin, pulling away from Ichijou's hands. He puts on his shoes before grabbing his motorcycle helmet from where it's been collecting dust for the last two months. "You two take care. I'll be back in a few hours."

Ichijou lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as the door closes behind Godai Yuusuke.

"You really know him well." Onodera smiles as he says the words, sitting back down at the table. "I think a lot of people would have thought his chatter was just his usual enthusiasm, not… frustration and boredom and fear all rolled into one."

"We've been through a lot together." Sitting back down at the table, Ichijou takes another drink. _A lot_. Such a simple way to summarize so many things. "Don't take it personally, either. It doesn't mean we're boring. Godai Yuusuke was just born with traveling in his soul."

"Ah. I know." Onodera's gaze drops to the tabletop, but not before Ichijou sees the sorrow and frustration coloring his features.

Ichijou doesn't know what to say. He can't promise the young man that traveling will be fun again someday. He can't promise him that one day Onodera Yuusuke will be happy to traipse through the multiverse, like he used to do. Not when he's seen how badly a dozen people or a car backfiring can shake the young man. "You'll find what you want to do. Give it time."

"Right." Onodera raises his head, smiling at Ichijou. "I'll get my feet under me one of these days, and then I'll find Kaitou, and then… who knows. Maybe I'll find my traveling shoes again. For right now, how about I make us dinner? I can't cook like Godai can, but if it's simple enough I can usually make it edible."

"You don't have to." Shaking his head, Ichijou pushes his chair back to stand up. "You're my guest. I'll make dinner."

"You look exhausted." Onodera stands before Ichijou can, grinning as he shows off the inhuman grace and speed that Kuuga can give him if he wants. The smile fades as Onodera moves to Ichijou's side and places a hand gently on his shoulder. "Which Godai would have seen, if he wasn't so wrapped up in me. I'm sorry about whatever awful thing you had to see at work. And I'm sorry you have to come home to this mess instead of having a chance to unwind. The least I can do to repay you is make dinner. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Ichijou smiles at the younger man as he says it. "It'll give me a chance to finish this before it gets warm."

"I think it's supposed to taste good warm, too."

"Maybe. Usually when I finally decide to drink, I don't give them a chance to." Shrugging, Ichijou finishes off the last of the beer. It's not much alcohol, but it's enough to dull his reflexes and reactions just slightly. Just enough so things aren't quite so raw.

He ends up helping Onodera with dinner, because it's too strange and uncomfortable watching the younger man wander around his kitchen without offering assistance. Then they settle down on the new couch, Ichijou in the center, Onodera in his corner, and turn on the television.

Onodera has the remote, and settles on a dubbed version of what's likely an American superhero movie. Ichijou doesn't care, because he suspects he's going to be asleep before the film's halfway through.

Godai's hand on his shoulder wakes Ichijou just after midnight. Ichijou's not sure how, but he knows, just from the touch and from the way that Godai smiles at him, that the man's feeling better.

The television's still on, playing a different movie. Onodera's asleep, his head resting on Ichijou's shoulder. Smiling as he wakes the younger man, Ichijou decides that there were probably infinitely worse ways he could have spent the night.

It isn't until he's almost asleep, sandwiched between Godai and Onodera like usual, that Ichijou realizes how he knew Godai's doing better.

For the first time since Onodera almost burned the apartment down, Godai didn't have a lingering hint of fear in his eyes.

XXXXXXXX

"I want to go outside."

Yuusuke cringes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and then hates himself for cringing. He doesn't need to be afraid. There's nothing in this world that could really hurt him, aside from his present company, and he's been doing well. He hasn't accidentally broken or burned anything for a good two weeks now.

Godai stands silent and frozen in the middle of the kitchen, a glass in hand. "You want to go outside the apartment? Now? During the day?"

"Yeah. Now." Yuusuke turns his face away, trying to hide the discomfort and embarrassment that he feels. Going outside isn't a big deal. It's just something you _do_. The fact that he's spent the last forty-eight hours analyzing whether he should try to go outside during the day, when there are more people, or late at night, when there are slightly fewer people but more drunk and unruly ones, doesn't matter.

Godai's arms wrap around him, hug him tightly. "We can go outside anytime you want, Yuusuke."

Nodding, he allows himself to cling tightly to Godai's shirt for a moment. There's no reason for his heart to be beating so fast. There's no reason to worry about what's going to happen if he goes outside.

After all, when DaiShocker finally came for them, it was in the comfort of their own home.

"You're sure, Yuusuke?" Godai's fingers slip under Onodera's chin, press up until he has to raise his head to meet Godai's eyes. "You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. You don't have to rush this."

He means it, too. The trip Godai took to see Minori had been good for everyone in the household. It allowed Godai to settle down, and with him more relaxed Ichijou had settled down, too.

Which means it's time for Yuusuke to settle down and start getting things more under control, because he's not going to be a burden on these two forever. "I'm sure. I want to go outside. I'd just like you to come with me."

It sounds too needy, too broken, and he shivers in embarrassment and closes his eyes.

"Let's go, then." Godai doesn't respond to the embarrassment. Tugging on Onodera's hand, he smiles and pulls him toward the door. "The extra shoes I brought over may be a little too big, but they'll work well enough."

Godai doesn't give him a chance to think again, dragging him to the door, pressing a jacket into his hands, pressing shoes into his hands.

It's good, in a way. It's better not to think too hard as he lets Godai grab his hand and lead him outside. If he doesn't think, then he can't scare himself or make himself worry about things that _aren't_going to happen.

And then they're outside. The sun's bright, far brighter than he ever remembers it being, and he has to close his eyes for a long minute. Placing his free hand above his eyes cuts the glare back to a level that makes opening his eye feasible, and he blinks away tears until he can actually see things again.

Godai stands next to him, patiently holding his left hand. Clenching his fingers tight, Onodera offers the man a smile.

The street's full of cars and the sidewalk is full of people. In some corner of his mind he knows that's not entirely true, that it's only two in the afternoon or so and that in a few hours there will be several thousand more people, but right now those who are present are enough to be overwhelming. He can hear everything in much better detail than he can ever remember hearing things before. The scuff of shoes on pavement, the crinkle of denim, the frantic beeping of phones as people text each other, the quiet conversations, and he shouldn't be able to hear both sides of phone conversations.

He needs to not hear both sides of phone conversations, and he takes a deep breath, shaking his head. He's human. He just needs human-level senses. There's no need for him to be so wary, so aware, and if he can stop being afraid Kuuga will understand that.

Will understand that hearing and seeing everything only makes things worse, not better, and after a few minutes the cacophony dies down to something bearable.

"Better?" Godai squeezes his hand lightly.

"Better." Smiling at the older man, Onodera nods decisively. "Not drowning, at least for now."

"There's a small temple with a garden that way." Godai tilts his head back. "If you'd like to go somewhere a little quieter. Or we can just walk around."

"The temple." Turning resolutely around, he smiles. "Somewhere quieter would be nice for now."

"Whatever you'd like." Godai's grinning ear to ear, practically vibrating with joy as he starts heading down the sidewalk. "Whatever's going to help you most, Yuusuke."

The things that would help him most are dead or missing. But there's no need to focus on that right now, so he just smiles at Godai and lets the older man lead the way.

He's outside and the world hasn't ended yet.

It's just a small step, but right now it feels like a huge accomplishment.

XXXXXXXX

There's no one in the apartment when Ichijou gets home.

He knows it as soon as he opens the door. It's strange, how quickly he's come to expect having at least Onodera present. But there's no one in the living room, perched on the edge of the couch; there's no one in the bedroom or the bathroom; and there's definitely no one in the kitchen.

So where are they?

He dials Godai's cell phone, and after a few seconds it starts ringing in the bedroom. Snarling out a half-curse, he flips his own phone shut and slips it back in his pocket.

He's seriously going to start taping the damn thing to Godai's forehead one of these days. Maybe then it'll actually be possible to find the man, at least when he's in the country.

There haven't been reports of anything strange happening in Tokyo, though. No fires, no explosions, no sightings of Yongo have been reported, and Ichijou forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

Things are probably fine. Maybe Godai managed to convince Onodera to go outside for a little bit. The crush of traffic coming home has cleared, so hopefully Onodera will be all right with the number of people that are around.

Or maybe they aren't even in this world anymore. Maybe Godai decided to take Onodera… somewhere.

He needs to stop thinking about this, because he's going to drive himself crazy and not actually accomplish anything.

Right, then. He'll make dinner for three, and hopefully the other two will be home by the time he's done.

The door opens as he's busy dishing out the meal onto three plates. Onodera moves almost too quickly for Ichijou's eyes to follow, dashing from the door to the corner of the couch that's pretty much become his. He grabs a pillow, holding it in front of his body like a shield, and closes his eyes tightly.

Godai closes the door softly behind him, every movement carefully contained, every sound minimized. His voice is barely a whisper when he finally talks. "Yuusuke? Are you all right?"

"Just… give me a minute." Onodera still has his eyes closed, but his breathing's evened out, become steady and deep. He's in new clothes, ones that fit him properly, in brighter colors than Godai's ever been terribly fond of wearing. "I'm all right. I just… I thought I was doing better than I was. I just need a minute to relax."

"If you're sure." Bending down, Godai takes off his shoes, offering Ichijou a tentative smile. "We're back, Ichijou-san."

"Welcome home." Ichijou says the traditional greeting drily, focusing his attention on Godai, giving Onodera the time he needs to collect himself. "A note would have been nice, Godai."

"I didn't know we were going to be gone that long." Godai shrugs, standing and coming into the kitchen. "Yuusuke wanted to go outside. We went outside. But walking in shoes that are three sizes too big for you is difficult, and he was doing well, so we decided to go get him some clothes. That… might not have been our brightest idea ever."

"I'm all right." Onodera's voice is calm, and he's smiling as he looks over at them. It's a good smile, too, full of pride and hope and a sheer joy that Ichijou's never seen from the younger man before. "I'm tired, and it got… really overwhelming a few times, but I'm all right. I didn't hurt anyone. Nothing bad happened."

"You did fantastic." Godai's grin looks a lot like Onodera's. Or Onodera's looks a lot like Godai's.

Both men look fantastic, and any remaining worry that Ichijou had melts away.

Which doesn't get Godai off the hook for everything. "Where's your phone, Godai Yuusuke?"

"Ah!" Godai's hands rummage through his shirt and pants pockets for a minute before he winces. "In my jeans from yesterday, in the bedroom. You tried to call, huh?"

"Yes, I tried to call. You know, giving you a cell phone only works if you're going to actually keep the cell phone on your person."

Godai shrugs, reaching for a plate. "I keep it on me sometimes. When I remember it exists."

Pulling the plate away from Godai, Ichijou swats at his hand. "Go wash your hands first. Both of you. And put your phone in your pocket. Then you can come eat at the table."

Both men do as they were told, Godai with a grin and a salute, Onodera without saying anything and with his head bowed so that his hair hides his expression.

They both talk during dinner, though, telling stories about where they were and what they saw. Nothing big, nothing dramatic, just children and students and a stray dog and helping some elderly couples with their groceries and lying in the grass staring at the clouds, but it's good to hear it.

It's good to hear Onodera talking.

Smiling to himself, letting their words wash over him, Ichijou knows, somehow, that this means everything's going to be all right.

XXXXXXXX

"What happened to the photo studio?"

Onodera asks the question early Sunday morning, on Ichijou's day off, after they've finished breakfast.

Godai tenses immediately, sorrow and anger battling in his expression for a moment before sorrow wins out. "It's where you left it."

"I don't…" Onodera shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't remember where we left it. They… the house… Tsukasa… damn."

Onodera pauses, taking a few deep breaths, and though Ichijou hadn't noticed the temperature rise he notices it fall.

"Why do you want to know about the photo studio?" Ichijou asks the question as quietly and gently as he can, trying to use the same voice he does when talking to victim's families.

Because this young man is a victim and the only remaining family of victims, all rolled into one, and treading on his healing wounds could be detrimental to everyone's health.

"It was our place." Onodera's shoulders hunch, his eyes studying the tabletop. "Which means that now it's my place. The only place I have. So I should know what kind of shape it's in, and try to fix it."

Godai doesn't say anything, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Taking a deep breath, Ichijou nods. "If you're sure it's what you want, we can take you there. We can get it fixed up. But if it's going to just be unhappy memories for you… we can find you somewhere else."

"Where?" Onodera smiles, but there's an edge of sadness to the expression so sharp it cuts. "I don't have anywhere left on my world, especially by this point in time. I don't have enough money to even hope to purchase someplace, assuming I could transfer money between worlds. I'm not going to be a burden here forever."

"You're not a burden." Godai cuts in almost angrily, scowling and crossing his arms over his chest. "I've told you that before."

"You have, and it's kind, but it doesn't change the objective fact that I _am_." Onodera's face sets into a stubborn frown. "I'm living in your house, Ichijou-san, without paying rent. I did several thousand yen worth of damage to your apartment already, and one day you _will_tell me how much it was so I can pay you back, Godai. I keep eating your food, without giving you anything but grief in return for it. I'm not going to live like that forever."

"It won't _be_like this forever." Godai's jaw is also set stubbornly. "You've been improving in leaps and bounds, Yuusuke. Once you're really stable, we can find you a job. Or you could travel with me. Or I could help you get through college."

"Like you did?" There's no malice in Onodera's voice, but there's a gentle, correcting chastisement that makes Godai flinch back. "I'm not you, Godai. I don't _want_ to go to college. I'd been doing fine traveling the worlds, finding odd jobs where I could. The idea of going back to school and writing papers and doing assignments… especially after everything that's happened _now_… it's too unreal."

"You might change your mind." Godai looks away, clearly uncomfortable but not ready to give up this battle. "You're smart. You're just as smart as me. You could do well in college."

"And you could do well if you ever decided to stay in one place and have a real job." There's more fire in Onodera's voice now. "We've both seen enough people to know that college isn't always the best fit. It's a great place to learn and a great place to grow up, and maybe if I hadn't been fighting Grongi and traveling the multiverse it would have been fun. But what's it going to teach me now that I can't teach myself?"

"Point." Godai finally smiles, shaking his head. "All right, no college. I just thought it might give you something to do if you wanted to stay in one place for a while."

"Maybe." Onodera shrugs, turning away from Godai and Ichijou, hiding his expression. "And maybe I will rethink it in a few months and ask for your help or the help of one of the other Riders to fit in on their world. But right now I want to reclaim _my_world. I want to see the photo studio, and I want to find Kaitou."

Ichijou places the plates from breakfast in the sink, trying not to make too much noise. "Do you have any idea where Kaitou is?"

"No."

Both men answer at the same time, and Onodera turns back around to look at Godai.

Godai shrugs. "I haven't seen him in over two months. Not since he came to me and told me you needed help. None of the others Riders that I've talked to since then have seen him, either."

Onodera studies the floor for a moment before nodding. "All right. That's all right. Kaitou didn't get captured by them. A little bit longer before going to find him will be all right."

It's almost a mantra that the young man's saying to himself, and Ichijou looks at Godai questioningly. It doesn't feel like the temperature's rising in the room, but…

Godai just shakes his head, never moving his eyes from Onodera.

Finally Onodera looks back up, gaze shifting from Godai to Ichijou. "Can you take me to the photo studio?"

Godai winces. "It wasn't… pretty. The one time I saw it, there was… a lot of blood. A lot of damage to the property, too."

"I know." The corners of Onodera's mouth twitch upward, though the expression isn't quite a smile. "I was there when it happened."

"I just want you to be prepared." Turning to Ichijou, Godai tilts his head slightly. "You don't have to come. It might be safer if you don't come."

Ichijou nods, looking between the two men. This isn't Godai's call, though. "Do you want me to come or stay, Onodera?"

"I…" Onodera rubs at his forehead, shoulders hunching sheepishly. "I'd like you to come, if you don't mind. But Godai's right, it could be dangerous."

Ichijou smiles. "Nothing I do is safe. You won't hurt me. And if you do start losing control, I think I've got a halfway decent grasp on how to slip between worlds now."

"Thank you. It means… a lot to me." Onodera meets Ichijou's gaze and smiles, a true smile, though there's still an edge of pain and sorrow in it. "I know it's not the way you probably wanted to spend your day off, but…"

"It's all right." Returning the young man's smile, he slips past both men to get his gun and badge out of the bedroom. Best to be prepared, just in case they run into trouble. Rejoining the others in the living room, he raises his eyebrows. "Shall we go?"

No one says anything more. Godai simply takes Ichijou's right hand, Onodera takes his left, and between one breath and the next they slip between worlds.

XXXXXXXX

It doesn't smell like blood.

Yuusuke's grateful for that. He's had enough experience smelling blood, fresh and old, and he doesn't know if his control is good enough to handle finding the photo studio still reeking of iron and death.

Instead it smells like dust and rotting fabric, with maybe a slight underlying hint of iron that he isn't going to think about.

Forcing his eyes up from the ground, he looks around. They're in the photo studio proper, where the backdrops that they sometimes used to guide their journey were. The backdrops lie in a heap, torn from their hinges months ago during the fight. If he looks through them he knows he'll find blood, because he was almost eviscerated on top of them.

But he can't think about that now. That's not what he needs to focus on.

Tearing his eyes away from the backdrops, he looks at the rest of the room. A thick layer of dust covers the broken furniture. The couch where Tsukasa used to lie is the only thing in the room that wasn't broken during the scuffle, and it sits silent and alone against the far wall.

"Yuusuke?"

Godai's voice breaks his reverie, and Yuusuke's suddenly very aware of how tightly he's gripping both men's hands. Letting them go, he inclines his head, allowing his hair to hide his eyes and his expression. Keeping it long has its uses. "I'm all right. This doesn't look… so bad yet."

"The police were here." Ichijou nods toward the entryway, where the fractured door is leaning crookedly in its frame. Yellow tape shows through the cracks in the door, and more yellow tape criss-crosses the shattered windows. "With the Riders, or…?"

Godai shakes his head. "It must have been the authorities from this world getting interested in the blood and destruction. We never found a Rider on this world. If one exists, he's keeping a low profile."

"Or she." Yuusuke makes the correction quietly, taking slow steps toward the kitchen. There are streaks of dark maroon along the wall, black smears in the carpet, and he takes a few deep breaths. He doesn't have to relive her dying to remember that it happened.

He doesn't.

He doesn't need to hurt anything, because there's nothing left to hurt but people who are only trying to help him.

The kitchen isn't in any better shape than the living room. The counter-top was smashed during the battle, and a pool of blood that starts off black and fades to smears of light red at the edges still lies in the center of the room. Eijiro never knew what hit him, at least.

Bending down next to the pool, Yuusuke touches the streaks on the outside. Smears in a circle, like someone tried for a moment to sponge away the stain, and there's less blood than there was before, though there's still more than enough to show that someone died here. "Did you guys…?"

Godai shakes his head, kneeling down on the opposite side of the puddle from Yuusuke. "No. We were too busy looking for you and the others. Maybe we should have. I'm sorry."

"No." Shaking his head, Yuusuke raises his gaze to meet Godai's eyes. "You took care of their bodies for me. You found me. This… this is my job."

"If you want it, it is. But it's not something you have to do alone." Ichijou's hand comes to rest on Yuusuke's shoulder, and it takes more willpower than Yuusuke thought he had not to turn around and bury his head in the detective's shoulder.

Ichijou isn't Yashiro.

He's just a damn good reflection of her.

"I need to check some things." Standing abruptly, Yuusuke goes to the intact china cabinet, rifling through it briefly. His cup, Natsumi's, Eijiro's, Tsukasa's, and his hand's shaking more than he thought it could as he forces himself to go through things a second time, just to be sure.

"Take it easy, Yuusuke." Godai speaks the caution quietly.

Nodding, Yuusuke closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Slow and cool, calm and controlled, and he will not be responsible for burning down what remains of their home.

Once he's certain he's not a danger, he goes to check out the rest of the house. The bathroom's relatively intact. There hadn't been any fighting there. His toothbrush and Tsukasa's are still on the edge of the sink; Natsumi's is properly placed in the cupboard behind the mirror.

The bedrooms are a disaster. The door to his and Tsukasa's room is embedded in the far wall, and there's a person-sized hole between their room and Natsumi's room. Blood spatter covers one wall, coats the floor, and Yuusuke doesn't know if it's from the start or the end of the attack.

So cruel, coming after Tsukasa when he was sleeping, when he didn't really have a chance to defend himself, and Yuusuke's hands are clenched so tightly into fists that he can feel blood starting to collect in his palms.

He's not here to study the remnants of battle, though. He's here to look for something… and maybe to collect some things of his own.

Half the clothes in his wardrobe have blood spray on them. His finger scratches at one of the dark red stains, and he closes his eyes and inhales.

Human blood.

Tsukasa's blood.

He chooses two of his favorite outfits, heedless to whether or not they have blood on them. Then he turns to the other closet.

Tsukasa didn't bleed on his own clothes. Yuusuke can feel his mouth curve into a bitter smile as his hands run over familiar garments. He wouldn't have, of course. It's so like Tsukasa just to bleed on other people's things.

He takes Tsukasa's black jeans, gray sweater, and multicolored scarf and adds them to the pile of his clothes. He doesn't care if they don't fit him. They mean something to him, and he wants them away from this place until it feels like home again.

"Yuusuke?" Godai gives him the quiet warning before touching his shoulder gently. "Is that what you wanted?"

No. He wants to rewind time. He wants to undo everything, but that isn't an option. "They're not here."

He can practically feel the tension in the room increase ten-fold as Godai and Ichijou look at one another.

Shaking his head, he gathers the clothes he set aside into his arms and stands. "Not Tsukasa and Natsumi. I'm not _that_crazy yet. All of Kaitou's things are gone. Which means Kaitou was here after it happened."

He had thought—hoped, maybe—that Kaitou would be here now. That maybe Kaitou would have spent the months Yuusuke was locked up making their home into a living place and not a graveyard.

That's not how Kaitou does things, though. Kaitou joins homes; he doesn't make them.

That's all right, though. He can work with that. Walking through the hole in the wall between rooms, Yuusuke sorts through Natsumi's clothes, choosing the outfit he wants and adding it to his pile before turning back to the other two men. "I want to clean this place up. I want to fix things, as much as I can. There might still be money stashed around; if there isn't, I'll find a way to pay you guys back for anything I have to buy. Is that… all right?"

Godai and Ichijou just smile, each gripping one of his shoulders for the trip back to Ichijou's apartment. Whatever he needs, whatever impossible task he asks from them, these two men will do their best to help him.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve such fantastic people to help him try to make a second chance—he can actually think of a lot of good reasons why he _shouldn't _be this lucky—but for now, he'll just be grateful to have their comfort and company.

XXXXXXXX

Fixing up the studio takes up all of his time once he sets his mind to it.

He and Godai remove the police tape and move the photo studio to another world first. It feels wrong, somehow, moving home without any of the others. Without Tsukasa's calm assurance and fundamental, subconscious understanding of the power he gifted them all with; without Natsumi's curiosity coupled with a firm grounding in reality; without even Kaitou's treasure-lust and constant eagerness to be somewhere, anywhere but where he is…

It's a feeling he's going to have to get used to, though. And at least he has Godai's hand on the power, directing them to someplace safe consciously and someplace interesting subconsciously.

He doesn't know when he started understanding how the power works. Was it Tsukasa telling him things when they were together, just to have something to talk about? Was it the scientists, discussing theories while he was there as though he was just a lab rat, a dog, something unintelligent and unintelligible? Or was it Tsukasa's ghost, playing at being DaiShocker's Great Leader for him, stroking his hair as he explained things Yuusuke was too tired and hurt to understand?

It doesn't matter. He can't let himself get caught up in that right now.

He just needs to be happy that the photo studio is in a different world, a safe world, and that he can start fixing it in earnest.

They start by replacing the door and the windows, because it's important to keep the place safe. Once that's done, Yuusuke decides to just take things a room at a time.

The entryway takes only a few hours—sweeping the floor, dusting, painting. It actually looks pretty good once they're done.

It doesn't look that way for long, because they have to drag all the broken furniture through the door once they find somewhere to dump it, but even that's all right. Especially since it makes Godai laugh ruefully, stating simply that he's grateful Ichijou wasn't there to see their lack of forethought, and anything that makes Godai laugh can't be too bad.

He tries hard not to think while they work. He won't remember times they spent with the worlds represented by the different backdrops, or lament the fact that he can't salvage them because they're all soaked in his blood, stuck together in a giant sticky mess. He won't think about who used to sit in which of the destroyed chairs, and who liked which table most. He won't think about whether it's Tsukasa's or Natsumi's or Eijiro's or his blood that they're washing off the walls, or painting over, or ripping up carpet to get rid of.

Usually it works.

Sometimes it doesn't, and he has to go back to Ichijou's apartment for a few minutes. Ichijou's apartment is a safe place, someplace that's become synonymous with calm, and he's almost always able to go back to the photo studio after a few minutes and keep working.

He doesn't go into the dark room. He knows himself well enough to know that he can't handle that. Godai understands without him having to say too much, cleaning out the room and placing all of the pictures in two large boxes.

Some of the pictures are just client photos, and he should feel worse than he does about the fact that those people won't be getting their pictures for at least another few months.

Most of the pictures will belong to Tsukasa, though, and Yuusuke can't guarantee he won't lose control if he sees them.

Better to keep all of that packed away until he can deal with it, and focus on strategies to get blood stains off of tiles and out of clothes.

It takes them about three weeks of steady, determined work to get the photo studio looking the way he wants it. They manage it, though, and when they're finally done it looks good. It doesn't look like a place where people died—where his _family_died.

It looks like home.

And that means it's time to finally find Kaitou again.


	5. Interlude Three: In Fire

**Disclaimer:** Kamen Rider belongs to Toei; I'm just playing in their sandbox.

_Interlude Three: In Fire_

The thief collects the third, fourth, and fifth sets of records as quickly as he can.

(Timing doesn't matter for those. There were too many awful things done for one day to have more meaning than another.)

It still takes him almost a week between each heist, and they become steadily harder as his targets become steadily more paranoid. Or cautious. He supposes it isn't paranoia if there really is a monster out to get you.

He screws up on the fifth one. The knife ends up embedded in his right thigh, while the projectile goes through his shoulder. He would call it a bullet, but the gun was a part of the damn scientist's hand, and the thief's pretty sure he's better off not knowing what it was that the weapon shot.

He still manages to kill his target and retrieve the documents, but it's harder to bandage himself up alone than the thief remembers. Maybe that was the reason he first started following them around.

(He didn't love Tsukasa and hate Tsukasa at the same time. He didn't love the girl that Tsukasa loved, or the damn impossible hero that followed Tsukasa like a puppy. He didn't.)

The shot through his shoulder did something bad to his left arm. His fingers stay numb and tingly, moving slow and jerky and without any strength when he can actually move them at all. He still has one more target to go, though, and he's not going to put it off because of a little problem with his non-dominant, non-shooting hand.

(It was forty-six days from the time they took Tsukasa and his puppy to the time the Riders saved what was left. It's the last number that doesn't doesn't _can't_ matter.)

He wraps his left arm in a sling and ties it as well as he can to his body, leaving it underneath his jacket for extra protection and to keep it more out of the way. A few carefully placed pins keep the jacket from moving too much, so he can still reach Diend if he needs to.

He'll try to do this like he has the others, just the thief and a pretty gun, but he's also going to be prepared for things to go wrong.

He spends two days staking out the house, analyzing it from all angles, choosing his time and his opening carefully. He'll go at night again, and he'd like to go for the third-floor balcony as his entrance after distracting one of the guards, but depending on what he can do one-handed he may have to go for the back door.

He's watching the building, waiting for his moment, when everything goes up in flames.

For a long moment the thief simply stares at the conflagration, completely at a loss. This isn't how things were supposed to go.

Then he charges forward, not caring who sees him, because _it's_ in there. The most important treasure, the one he originally set out to find after the Riders scattered the scientists to the corners of the multiverse, is _in the fire_.

The thief snarls, feet coming to a halt while he's still a good six meters from the door. There's too much heat, too much smoke, and it's been too long since he was anything but _thief_. He can't find the heart to force his legs into the maelstrom in search of something that may have already been destroyed.

The explosions start rocking the building then, and he retreats back to his observatory, keeping the gun held lightly at his side. People will run. Perhaps he'll be lucky and he'll find his target, burned and disoriented, and even if he won't have the satisfaction of finally completing his collection at least he'll know he killed them all.

(He'll know that all the information they stole, all the knowledge bought in blood, is finally wrested from their hands.)

He's prepared for a fight. He's ready to chase the scientist between worlds, if he has to, from one corner of Hell to the next.

He's not ready for the figure that walks calmly out of the fire, the deep black of his armor contrasting sharply with the blood red of his eyes and the bright white of the treasure held close to his chest.

_DecaDriver_.

He should run. He should slip away now, dive between worlds, because he's not ready for this. He's never going to be ready for this, because he's not going to do it. He's not going to be _that man_ anymore.

He's just a thief.

Just a thief.

Nothing more, so he can't go talk to Yuusuke, but Yuusuke has DecaDriver, and DecaDriver's _his_. DecaDriver is the thing he's been chasing for the last month.

(Forty-six days.)

Then Yuusuke's armor falls, and there are tears reflecting firelight off the man's face as he takes a tentative step forward.

Towards the thief, though it's obvious that Yuusuke doesn't know that, his eyes searching the darkness of the night around them.

"Kaitou?" Yuusuke's voice breaks over the old name, fracturing it into two even pieces. "Daiki? Please tell me you're still around. Please… I…"

He has DecaDriver. It's the only reason that the thief decides to approach him. The thief keeps tight hold of his gun, his finger ready to dive for but not on the trigger. He can't aim the gun at Yuusuke. Getting into a fight with Kuuga without Diend would be asking to die, and he's never been someone who could do that.

"Yo, Yuusuke."

The man's eyes jump to him immediately, and a bright grin wipes away some of the sorrow from his face. "Kaitou! You really are here."

"You've got something that belongs to me, Yuusuke." The thief gestures toward DecaDriver with the gun. "I'd appreciate you giving that back."

Yuusuke's hands tighten around the Driver, hugging it tight to his chest. For a moment the thief thinks that the man's going to refuse to give it up, maybe even go so far as to draw Kuuga's armor around him again.

Just as the thief's drawing back, debating how quickly he could get Diend out and how easily he could use it one-handed, Yuusuke lowers his head and holds out DecaDriver.

Yuusuke's eyes are on the ground. His hair's twice as long as it used to be, hiding his eyes. "If that's what you need. I've got… other things from both of them. But I could see why you'd want this, Kaitou."

The man's wrong. Well, he's right that the thief wants the Driver, but he's wrong about any of the reasons. It's a treasure, a precious treasure, one that the people who had it didn't appreciate. Liberating it from them was the thief's _job_.

(It has nothing to do with blood on the walls and death in the air and files filled with nightmares. It doesn't.)

He takes a step forward, intending to grab the Driver and run. It's not possible to hold both the gun and the Driver in the same hand, though, and he ends up fumbling both treasures.

Yuusuke's hands are fast, much faster than it ever seemed like they were before. He grabs both the gun and the Driver before they can strike the grass of the lawn, holding one out to the thief in each hand.

Then he freezes, stops breathing entirely, and the thief takes a step back.

_Hot_. It's hot, suddenly, the whole world a desert, and if he doesn't get out of here he's going to die.

But Yuusuke has the treasures.

Before the thief can decide between just running or grabbing one of the treasures and _then_ running the heat and fear disappear. The thief sways for a moment, shaking his head and blinking sweat out of his eyes.

Yuusuke's eyes are closed, and he breathes in a deep, slow, even rhythm. He still has DecaDriver clutched in his right hand and the gun clenched in his left hand. Even with how tight his fingers are around the weapons, though, it should be possible to sneak just one away—

Except Yuusuke's eyes are open again. "You're hurt, Kaitou. Badly?"

Bad enough, but there's no way he's going to admit that to anyone. "I'll be all right."

"Did you have anyone help you bandage it? Anyone else to take a look at it?" Concern squeezes Yuusuke's eyebrows together, turns the corners of his mouth down into a slight scowl.

"I was a little busy." The thief's words come out sharply, almost like a reprimand.

Yuusuke flinches back as though the thief struck him with the words, and the thief finds himself reaching toward the other man.

Which is silly. He hasn't done anything to hurt Yuusuke. Not that Yuusuke even matters. It's the treasures that he holds that are important to the thief, and he pulls his hand back to his side.

Yuusuke smiles at him, and there's a look of utterly heartbroken understanding on his face that makes the thief want to snarl.

"Let me take care of your wounds." Yuusuke's voice trembles, just slightly, though for once it's hard for the thief to read his expression. "You know I'm good at it."

He does know that Yuusuke's good at it. They were all good at it, once, because they were all good at bleeding.

Some were just better at it than others.

The fingers of his left hand ache, twitching without his command, and the thief finds himself grimacing and raising his right hand to hover helplessly over the wound.

"Let me take you somewhere safe and bandage you up. Then you can leave with both of these, if you really want to." Yuusuke's voice breaks again, and his hands are shaking where they hold the treasures.

Yuusuke's broken.

The thief doesn't know what it is about the way Yuusuke moves, about the way he talks, about the way he pauses sometimes and closes his eyes, but as soon as he thinks it he knows that it's true. The understanding hits the thief like a sledgehammer, driving the breath from his lungs.

That's not the way it's supposed to be. The Riders saved Yuusuke. The heroes took him away, took care of him. He's not supposed to still be hurt.

"Kaitou? Daiki?" Yuusuke places DecaDriver in the crook of his left arm, leaving his right arm free to reach for the thief. "Kaitou, it's all right. It's me. I won't hurt you."

Yuusuke freezes as soon as he says the words, his mouth moving as though he's repeating them to himself.

The thief snorts, shaking his head as though Yuusuke's said something silly. "I'm not afraid of you. I was just debating what the best course of action is."

"Oh?" Yuusuke tosses his head, clearing his hair away from his eyes for a moment. "What could be the downsides of having someone give you back your treasures and take care of your injuries?"

"If it was anyone but you asking, I'd think it was a trap." The thief studies Yuusuke for a long moment, then shrugs. "But that's not what you would do. If you wanted to kill someone, they'd be dead like all the people in that building are dead."

"I…" Yuusuke's eyes drop to the grass. "They deserved it. I wasn't expecting to see one of _them_, so maybe I lost control a little bit, but after… they deserved it."

They deserved to die a thousand times over, for all the sins the thief knows about and all the sins he doesn't. Not that the thief cares about things like that. He's just a thief, not a hero, not a vigilante, not vengeance, nothing but a thief. "I'm not going to argue with you about killing them."

"He was trying to use DecaDriver." Yuusuke hugs the Driver closer to his body, and he's trembling visibly again. "One of _them_ was trying to use Tsukasa's weapon."

"Then if you hadn't killed him, I would have." He had planned on killing him, anyway, because he was the last one. "No one touches my treasures but me."

Yuusuke smiles, a shaky, uncertain expression. "Present company excluded, maybe?"

The thief doesn't answer, and after a few seconds Yuusuke lowers his head again, hair hanging down to cover his eyes. "Just come with me for a little bit? Please?"

Sighing, the thief shakes his head. "You're impossible. You know that?"

Yuusuke just watches him, continuing to hold his hand out.

"Fine." Grinning, the thief takes the proffered hand. "You can play doctor if you want. Just so long as you give me back what's mine when you're done."

Yuusuke's fingers clasp around the thief's in a firm grip. Grinning, an expression that looks almost like it would have four months ago, Yuusuke nods once. "Whatever you want to do, Kaitou. You know I'd never try to tie you down somewhere you didn't want to be. Just… trust me for a little bit."

The thief inclines his head and doesn't fight as Yuusuke draws him off to another world.

It's the most trust the thief could offer anyone right now.


	6. Part Three: Scars

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kamen Rider; Toei does.

**Author's Note:** There's only one more part, an epilogue, to come.

_"It's harder to heal than it is to kill." –Tamora Pierce_

_Part Three: Scars_

He takes Kaitou to the photo studio.

If he stopped to think about it, maybe he would have chosen somewhere else. Maybe he would have chosen Ichijou's apartment, because Ichijou knows real doctors and Kaitou looks like hell.

He doesn't take time to think about it, though. He can't, in some ways. Thinking about things could be dangerous.

(He burned them he burned them _he burned them_and even if they deserved it he didn't choose to do it.)

Besides, the entire point in finding Kaitou was to show him this. To bring him to the photo studio, and show him what they've done, and maybe-hopefully Kaitou will grin that fierce, painless grin of his and agree to stay for a little bit. Maybe Kaitou will cook, like he used to, and there will only be two of them instead of five at the table, but it will still be better than one.

Anything is better than being the last one left.

"What did you _do_?"

The tentative smile fades from Yuusuke's face as he takes in the thief's reaction, the horror in Kaitou's voice.

Kaitou turns in a slow circle, eyes flitting from the newly-painted walls to the sparse furnishings to the repaired windows.

(Lingering where Yuusuke bled on the paintings, where Natsumi's lifeblood stained the wall and carpet, where Kivaala's body had been smashed into the drywall, and Yuusuke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.)

This is their place. This is their home, and he's going to be happy here again.

"They were supposed to save you." Kaitou smiles, but it's not right. There's too much pain and bitterness, too much sorrow, and Kaitou isn't supposed to wear his agony so openly. "They were supposed to _save_you, not give you a damned graveyard to live in and call it good."

"They _did_save me." His voice is rougher than he expected it to be, and his grip on Kaitou's hand is too tense. Taking a deep breath, Yuusuke forces his fingers to release their hold. Of all the people left in the multiverse, Kaitou is the one he will not, under any circumstances, hurt. "Godai and the others came for me, and he spent… a long time helping me get to where I am right now. Keeping me from being a danger to anyone else. I owe him and the others a debt that I don't know if I can ever repay. And I owe you for sending him after me."

Kaitou's lips turn up into a grin again, and it's almost like it used to be. "Don't thank me for that. It wasn't about you. It was about cracking the impenetrable nut to get at all the nice treasures inside."

"Yeah." Returning the grin with a smile of his own, Yuusuke nods. "Of course it was. Did you end up getting what you wanted?"

Kaitou's grin disappears, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I got… something, at least."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know how much Kaitou will talk about before the thief decides that running away is the best option, the least painful option.

So he changes the conversation entirely. "What happened to your arm?"

"I dodged left when I should have dodged right." Kaitou shrugs, though it's a strange motion, with his right shoulder moving and his left shoulder held mostly still. "Took a projectile through my shoulder, messed up something in my arm too."

"Have you had anyone look at it?" His hands twitch toward the sling, but he doesn't touch Kaitou. He'll wait for permission, make sure he doesn't do anything to make this more uncomfortable than it has to be.

"Yeah, sure. I always make sure to have a doctor in my stash of treasures." Sarcasm drips from the words. "No, I haven't had anyone look at it. I was busy. If it really doesn't heal right, I'll find someone to look at it."

"But you'll let me take a look at it now, right?" Yuusuke smiles, trying to mask exactly how badly he wants to look at the thief's injuries, to reassure himself that they really aren't that big a deal.

Kaitou gives his little half-shrug, gaze focused somewhere in the middle of the living-room floor. "You'll be able to tie a tighter bandage, so sure. Take a look."

Nodding, Yuusuke reaches out slowly and takes Kaitou's hand to lead him upstairs.

The bedrooms are the part that he and Godai left mostly unchanged. They repaired the damage to the wall between the two bedrooms, replaced the door, and they scraped away and painted over Tsukasa's blood, but he chose colors similar to those that had already been present.

He doesn't want this to change. He likes the lingering memories here, and knowing that Tsukasa died somewhere else somehow makes it easier to bear the flashes of his blood that Yuusuke sometimes thinks he still sees or, more often, smells.

Kaitou doesn't say anything when Yuusuke leaves him in the bedroom that used to be Tsukasa's, ducking into the bathroom for a moment to retrieve the first-aid kit.

(Restocking the first aid kit was one of the first things Yuusuke did, and though Godai hadn't said anything his face had been drawn tight with sorrow.)

Getting Kaitou out of his jacket, his sling, and his shirt proves to be harder than Yuusuke expected. The thief may have been working one-handed, but he was apparently very determined that his clothes were staying on and in place. For a moment Yuusuke considers asking to just cut everything off, but he doubts Kaitou will approve of wearing spare clothes from Tsukasa's closet. Eventually he gets the clothing off, leaving an inch-thick mass of twisted bandaging that he doesn't feel bad about cutting to smithereens.

The entry hole is the smaller injury, a centimeter-wide oval just to the right of where Kaitou's left arm meets his body. The exit hole is significantly larger, maybe three or four centimeters in diameter, with a glimmer of white along the top edge that looks too much like bone for Yuusuke's comfort. A mixture of pus and diluted blood starts to trickle from the injury as soon as the bandage is off.

"Kaitou…" Yuusuke exhales the thief's name softly, fingers hovering near but not touching the injuries. All of the skin for a good five centimeters around both holes looks abnormal, too red, too dark, a combination of bruising and swelling and crusting that Yuusuke's certain isn't normal. "I don't think I can fix this."

"I didn't _ask_you to fix it, Yuusuke." Kaitou holds his left arm close to his body still, eyes fixed on the window, on the wall, on the carpet, anywhere but on the awful injury. "You said you wanted to see it and bandage it. You've seen it; put a proper bandage on it. It'll heal."

"I'm not sure it will." Finding a clean-looking place on the old bandaging, he holds it up to the entry wound, trying to catch the bloody discharge before it can run down Kaitou's chest. "This looks pretty awful, Kaitou. You should really get it—"

"Either bandage it or shut up and let me go, Yuusuke." Kaitou looks at Yuusuke for the first time since he started cleaning the injury. "I don't care which you choose."

"Don't—" Yuusuke chokes back the words, because he's not certain what will come out if he doesn't. Don't be angry? Don't go? Don't hurt yourself? Don't hate me? He has no right to demand any of those from Kaitou, especially not after what he's done. "All right. I'll do my best."

He uses the entire tube of antibiotic ointment on the wound, and it still doesn't feel like enough. Kaitou doesn't flinch, muscles clenched tight, but occasionally the fingers of his left hand twitch. Bandaging the wound takes three rolls of bandage material, but that's all right. There's easily four times that in the first aid kit, because usually there would be more than one person injured.

He won't think about things like that, though. Kaitou's here, with him, in their home, and that means things are finally, really getting better.

"How's that?" He resists the urge to pat the bandaging when he's done, instead wiping off the remaining traces of blood from his fingers on the collection of old bandaging at their side.

Kaitou shrugs his left shoulder, grimacing as he does, and tries to move his left arm. He only manages to raise the arm to shoulder level, but he nods once he's done that as though he's satisfied. "Shirt, then sling."

Yuusuke obliges, adjusting the sling so that it fits as comfortably as he can make it.

Silence descends between them, but it's not a comfortable silence. It's a waiting absence of sound, the calm before the storm, and Yuusuke closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe calmly.

It's going to be all right.

No matter what Kaitou says, it's going to be all right.

"You want me to stay, don't you?" Kaitou's tone is almost amused, his face practically devoid of expression save for a slightly mocking smile that might just be his default expression.

"I…" He could lie to the man, tell him that he doesn't care, that it doesn't matter. Maybe he should, even. It might actually increase the likelihood that Kaitou will stay. "Yes. I fixed everything here, so—"

Kaitou laughs, a deep, bitter sound that causes Yuusuke to flinch back. "_Fixed_ everything? You covered up the evidence of a slaughter, but that doesn't mean you _fixed_ fucking _anything_."

"This is still our home, Kaitou." He tries to catch Kaitou's eye, to make him understand. "What happened doesn't change that. This is still the place that's _ours_. It doesn't—"

"No." Kaitou snarls the word, standing and pacing to the center of the room before jabbing a finger toward Tsukasa's wardrobe. "This place was _his_. Just like all of us were _his_. And _they_ killed him. They had _you_beat him to death. No amount of cleaning up the blood or replacing the furniture is going to change that."

_You_. The word rings in Yuusuke's head, an accusation, and he understands, suddenly, why Kaitou hasn't been looking at him. Why Kaitou doesn't trust him, hasn't searched him out, doesn't want his gratitude.

Kaitou hadn't meant to save _him_when he sent the Riders into that base. Kaitou had been after a different treasure entirely, one that Yuusuke made sure he'll never find again.

"I'm sorry." His voice breaks on the word, and he has to blink away tears. Kaitou isn't someone he can cry in front of. That would add insult to injury, marking the person who killed Tsukasa as someone so weak. "I should have realized… I'm sorry."

"Look, Yuusuke." Kaitou's voice is perfectly reasonable, though Yuusuke can't bring himself to look at the man's face. He's sure he won't like whatever he sees there, whether it's hate or disgust or pity or a combination of the three. "Maybe you thought this was your home. Maybe it was. But it's nothing now. It's just another place filled with bad memories. Thanks for bandaging my arm up. I appreciate it. And thanks for giving me this."

Kaitou gestures with his right hand, drawing Yuusuke's attention to DecaDriver. He hadn't seen the thief pick up the Driver, but he's not surprised that Kaitou has it.

"But that's all I'm going to take from you." Kaitou turns away, takes one confident step toward the door before pausing. "Do whatever you need to do, Yuusuke. But leave me out of your little plans, all right?"

Kaitou's going to leave. Just like that, here and then gone again, with no intent of ever coming back.

Leaving Yuusuke alone, the last of them, with no one to talk to, no one to reminisce with, no one who really knew Tsukasa as more than an arrogant enemy or Natsumi as more than the woman who inexplicably loved him and even more inexplicably killed him to save them all. No one who really knew Eijiro at all.

Leaving him alone with that last stinging accusation, the guilt that he thought he had beaten given new fangs, and he needs Kaitou to stay.

His fingers are gentle where they touch Kaitou's right shoulder. He just needs him to stay, needs him to talk with, if only for a few minutes. Needs to know that Kaitou's going to be all right, that the awful wound in his shoulder will actually be treated and not left to fester or be utilized by one of Kaitou's targets to finally slay the thief.

Kaitou screams, a cry that's cut off before it can find full voice, and lunges away from him. Smoke rises from the thief's jacket, and he turns to look at Yuusuke with utter confusion and accusation in his eyes. His left hand can't rise enough to touch his right shoulder, and his right hand can't reach to cover the burns, leaving Yuusuke with a perfect view of the blackened fabric and bright pink skin underneath.

He burned Kaitou.

Without meaning to, without any intent to do harm, but intent doesn't matter. Results are what matter.

It's too hot in the room, far too hot, and he can feel the flames dancing on the edge of his control. All it will take is another word, another look, another blow to his control from any direction, and there won't be anything left standing of their home. He'll destroy it as surely as he destroyed the house of the scientist who tortured him for a month.

"I'm sorry, Kaitou." He closes his eyes, hugging his hands to his chest, trying to rein in the fire. Just for a minute. Just long enough to say goodbye. "Take care of yourself, all right? Take care of your shoulder. And take anything you want from here."

That's as much as he can trust himself to say. Time for him to go, so that nothing like this can happen again.

He thinks he hears Kaitou's voice calling his name as he slips between worlds, but that's probably just wishful thinking.

XXXXXXXX

"I should have gone with him."

Godai paces around the apartment, from the couch to the window to the kitchen sink to the front door and back again.

Ichijou watches him. A morbid part of him wants to put his feet up on the coffee table, just to see if Godai will notice the obstruction in his path and how it will affect him. He's not cruel enough to do that, though. "He wanted to go alone."

"He's not ready yet." Godai shakes his head, pausing at the window to look outside before continuing in his pacing. "Not for someone like Kaitou Daiki. That man's a mess at the best of times, and after what happened… there are so many things that could go wrong, Ichijou."

"Or it could go right." Shrugging, Ichijou leans back on the couch, trying to relax despite Godai's tension. "He's been doing really well. He's proud of what you've done with the photo studio, and rightly so. He and Kaitou are friends. Maybe they'll just sit down and reminisce and everything will be—"

"_Where is he?"_

The man appears in the center of the living room, slipping between worlds with a speed that Ichijou's never seen or felt before. A weapon is in his hand—vaguely gun-shaped, but not a gun, and Ichijou already has his revolver in hand before he realizes who this must be.

Godai stands frozen by the window, fury and horror slowly building in his expression. "What did you _do_, Kaitou?"

The thief's right arm trembles as he holds his weapon, the barrel slipping from Godai to the floor to the ceiling and back to Godai in a random pattern. His left arm is in a sling, tied tight to his chest. His hair is in disarray, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat.

He's hurt. He's hurt badly from the looks of it, he's terrified, and Ichijou isn't certain that the thief's not going to collapse in the middle of his living room. Standing slowly, Ichijou lowers his revolver so it's pointing at the coffee table. "Did you lose Onodera, Kaitou?"

"I can't _find_him." Shaking his head doesn't move his hair very far, and the thief growls out what's probably an expletive. "He went between worlds, and I should be able to find him but I can't. So I thought he must have come here. That you're hiding him somehow. I thought… he seemed happy when he talked about you."

"Why did he run away from you, Kaitou?" Godai's voice is low, monotone, and there's an ugly feeling of power and heat in the room that Ichijou doesn't like. "All he's wanted to do since I took him out of that damned room was find you. What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything!" Kaitou cries the words, voice near to cracking. "I went with him. I saw that mausoleum you helped him create. I…"

"It's all right, Kaitou Daiki." Speaking quietly, Ichijou takes a step closer to the thief. "We can find him, and there aren't all that many things out there that could hurt him."

Not anymore.

Present company excluded, of course.

"I think… he misunderstood something I said." The weapon the thief's holding wavers, lowering slightly. "I think… I hurt him."

Godai's on the thief between one breath and the next. There isn't even time for the man to get off a shot before the weapon's knocked from his hand, Kuuga's black-gloved fists clenching in his shirt and hauling him into the air.

"I spent _three months_ in _hell_ with him." Godai's voice is a rough growl, barely recognizable. "How _dare_you—"

"Godai Yuusuke!" Ichijou barks out the name, resisting the urge to lift the gun. He will not aim at Yuusuke. Not unless he intends to take the shot. "Take a step back. Look at what you're doing."

Kuuga's armor flickers and falls, leaving Godai still holding the younger man in the air. Both men breathe in quick, panting gasps, Kaitou from pain, Godai from…

From pain, and Ichijou holsters his revolver, picks up the thief's weapon and sets it gently down on the couch, and then lays a hand on Godai's shoulder. "That's enough, Yuusuke. He's grieving, too. Whatever happened, I doubt he meant to hurt Onodera. Onodera wouldn't care for him as much as he obviously does if Kaitou was that kind of person."

Kaitou looks away, and Godai gives a soft, broken laugh. "He'd love anything that connects him with _them_. He couldn't help it, not right now."

"You really think the three of them would have traveled with someone that they didn't trust?" He can see the consideration in Godai's eyes, the growing hesitance. Ichijou never expected to be defending a thief he never met, but he'll defend Onodera's intelligence and ability to read people to the grave and back. Just like he'd defend Godai's, if anyone tried to question it. Both Yuusukes are very good at seeing the best in people and then somehow urging them to live up to it. "Do you really think Onodera's that poor a judge of character? Do you really think you, angry and frustrated and hurt right now, have a better read on Kaitou than Onodera did when he was traveling with the man as a friend?"

Godai pauses a moment and then shakes his head. His arms slowly lower until the thief's feet touch the floor again, setting him down gently. He unclenches his fingers one at a time, eventually taking a step back and shaking out his hands. "He's not here, Kaitou. Onodera isn't. And you're right. I can't feel him, either."

The softly spoken words are like a kick in the gut, but Ichijou refuses to let them register. He's sure Onodera's alive, even if _fine_ or _all right_may not be words that apply to him right now. "Is that a burn on your shoulder, Kaitou?"

The thief raises his right hand, trying and failing to touch the hole in his clothes and the red, blistered skin underneath. Multiple holes, really, in the shape of fingers, and Ichijou suddenly knows how Kaitou's conversation with Onodera ended.

It's a relief, in a way, because it means he also knows where Onodera is.

"Why do you want to find him, Kaitou?" Studying the thief, Ichijou debates whether he should offer the man a shoulder to lean on before he falls over.

Kaitou straightens, though, and somehow he doesn't look quite as hurt now. "You know where he is."

Godai turns to fix Ichijou with a fierce, desperate look.

"I think I know where he went, yes." Ichijou holds out a hand towards Godai, cutting off the barrage of questions before they can start. "And I think he's all right. I want to know why you want to find him, though. It's clear you're both still… that you haven't recovered from what happened. If you're just going to continue hurting each other, I see no reason to bring you with us when we go get him."

"You're not going to stop me if I want to come." The thief says the words haughtily, with just enough gruffness underlying his tone to make it a threat.

An empty threat, posturing for the sake of his pride and self-image, and Ichijou sighs. He hates it most when people are trapped by their own identity. "You _want_to hurt him more?"

"No." Kaitou flinches back, head lowering. "Look, like I said, I made a mistake. I said something that he took the wrong way—I think he thinks I blame him for what happened to Tsukasa. But that's not true."

Godai's breath hisses out in a pained sigh, but Ichijou doesn't shift his gaze from the thief. Kaitou's the one they have in front of them right now, and Kaitou's the one he needs to figure out what to do with. "If you did say something like that, then yes, it hurt him. But it hurt him more that he hurt you."

"Oh, no…" Godai's voice is a quiet whisper, pain-stricken, almost despondent.

Ichijou can _feel_it when Godai tries to slip between worlds, an ache in his back teeth, a shivering awareness of both power and fragility in the world around him.

Kaitou notices it at the same time, throwing himself at the larger, older man with a vindictive cry of frustration and pain.

The scuffle is brief, more a clawing of hands against arms with no real punches thrown. It ends with Ichijou standing between Godai and Kaitou, one hand on Godai's shoulder, holding him in the apartment, and one centered on Kaitou's chest, keeping the thief back from Godai.

"Bring me with you." The thief's panting, and the words are practically a plea, stripped of all the pretense that had been in them before.

"Why?" The same question, relentless, over and over, and Ichijou manages to keep his expression neutral though he almost feels bad pressuring Kaitou. He needs an answer before he'll know how to act, though.

"I can't do it." The thief's shaking, a minute trembling that Ichijou hadn't been able to see but that he can feel. "I can't play house with him. I can't be what Tsukasa and Natsumi were. I'm not that kind of person."

"He asked you to do that?" Tilting his head slightly, Ichijou watches the thief's expression change, discomfort, distrust, anger, fear, but there's something else there. Grief, obviously, but not just grief. Something deeper, something the thief's trying not to tell him.

"No. But he… he wanted me to stay. In that house, where they died." Kaitou's hands clench into fists at his side. "How could I? How could anyone?"

"He sees it as the place that they lived, the place that _was_ their home and _is_his, not the place where they died." Godai is finally quiet, still, in control, and it's nice to have his gentle voice as a back-up. "You could see it that way, too."

"I don't _have_a home." Kaitou shakes his head, though his eyes dart away to the side before being brought back determinedly to meet Ichijou's gaze. Acknowledging the lie, giving the tell, and then immediately trying to hide or undermine it. "I haven't had a home for years, and I don't intend to ever have one again. I'm just a thief. I have places where it's safe to store my treasures, and that's it."

"He wouldn't try to shackle you to the house." Godai's tone is infinitely patient, now. "And even if he did, it's a place you can take anywhere. He just… he cares for you. You're someone important to him."

Kaitou shakes his head, just slightly, backing away from Ichijou's hand.

Ichijou smiles at the thief, relaxing and allowing his hand to drop to his side. "You are. I know that just from the few months I've known Onodera."

"I _can't_." The words are almost a plea. "He can't ask that of me."

"Why not?" The same words, the same question, but Ichijou feels like they're finally getting to the heart of the matter. "Why can't you be his friend like you had been before?"

"_Because they're dead._" Kaitou's voice cracks, expression shattering, grief and rage and disbelief and awful guilt fighting for dominance as tears flood his eyes. He blinks them back, though, holding on to that shred of his composure even though his hands are trembling. "Because Natsumi's dead. Because Tsukasa's dead. Because Yuusuke's broken."

The thief pauses, eyes closing as he draws a ragged breath. Before too many seconds have passed his eyes open again, though, lips turning up into a grin that has more in common with a corpse than a celebration.

"Because Tsukasa's dead, and Yuusuke was tortured for over a month, and it's partly _my fault_."

"Kaitou…" Godai reaches toward the younger man, but the thief dances back, away from the contact.

"I was trained for things like that." Kaitou's gaze remains locked on Ichijou's. "Just like you were. _Don't play the hero_. When you've got a hostage situation, no idea what the enemy's force is other than strong, what are you supposed to do?"

The thief pauses, that same not-grin on his face, evidently waiting for Ichijou to answer.

"Oh, come on, detective." The thief waves his right hand in a circle, urging for the answer. "I've heard enough speeches in enough worlds to know that you've heard this one. I'll even give you a hint. It starts with _don't try to play the hero_."

Ichijou feels his blood turn to ice as he finally realizes where the thief is going with this. It's obvious. Second nature, really, for anyone who's trained for the military or the police force, because it's something that's said over and over again until it sticks.

Don't try to play the hero. It just leaves more bodies to clean up.

Know your enemy.

Know your resources.

Wait for—

"Wait for back-up." Kaitou whispers the words, almost to himself. "Wait for back-up, especially if the hostages don't seem to be in immediate danger. Give yourself the best option you can of actually saving them, because you only get one chance. Just one. After that, well…"

The thief's shoulders seem to hunch in, and he sways on his feet.

He manages to dodge back quick enough when Godai's hands reach out to him, though. The thief's right hand twitches back, disappears into his jacket with a speed and surety that Ichijou knows.

A cop going for his gun.

A man trained like he's been, and Ichijou finds himself suddenly far more fascinated by and horrified by and piteous of the thief than he ever thought he could be. What was this man like, once? Where did he learn the quiet little voices in the back of his head? When did he start ignoring them, and how have they managed to hurt him now?

"Don't touch me." The thief glares at Godai. "I'm not like Yuusuke. You can't save me. You can't help me. Just like I couldn't save or help Tsukasa. I could only get him killed."

Godai shakes his head, something like weariness tainting the certainty and determination in his expression. "You weren't responsible for—"

"The injury to my wrist and the cuts on my face weren't from a welcome party when I came to tell you that Shocker had them." Kaitou's right hand clenches into a tight fist. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not a damn hero. But maybe a thief could… I don't know. It doesn't matter. I tried to get them out on my own on day eight. They killed Tsukasa—had _Yuusuke_kill Tsukasa—on day nine because the only thing more terrifying than having that man in a cage is having someone else set him loose."

"It really wasn't your fault." Ichijou keeps his voice calm, though it's hard. How many different nightmares are wrapped up in this story? "Failing to save them isn't the same as being responsible for what was done."

The thief shrugs, though the movement looks far too much like a shiver. "It doesn't matter right now. All I want from you is the information about where Yuusuke is."

"Why?" It hurts, asking the question again, but Ichijou doesn't let it show. Maybe this time he'll get an answer he can use.

"Because Tsukasa gave them to me." The thief laughs, a soft, broken sound, and uses his good hand to shove his hair back on his head. "Because I was supposed to be the one to kill Tsukasa, and I guess I did. And the only thing he ever asked of me, the only thing he ever trusted me with, was Natsumi and Yuusuke. I was way too late to save one, but I'm not enough of a bastard to outright kill the other."

Ichijou considers the words for a moment, trying to keep his expression neutral. He has a bad feeling that showing Kaitou Daiki pain, even if it's in sympathy for him… maybe _especially _if it's in sympathy for him… would not be a good way to earn the man's trust or regard.

He could try to keep Kaitou from following them. He could try to wait to go to Onodera, send Godai alone, keep Kaitou here… there are a lot of options that could be considered there, but none of them are likely to end well.

Holding out his hand to the thief, Ichijou smiles a soft, sad smile. There really isn't any better option than taking the thief with them.

Yuusuke needs Kaitou.

More than that, Kaitou needs Yuusuke.

Given everything Ichijou knows about both Godai and Onodera, that's going to end up being the more important thing in the end.

XXXXXXXX

Godai knows where Ichijou's taking them before the grey veil parts, showing him with depressing clarity exactly where they are.

It makes sense, really. Hurt, ashamed, afraid, having hurt a man he cares for, where would Onodera go? What place would he trust more than any other to contain him?

It doesn't make the stone corridors or the dim lights any more inviting, or the closed door to the cell any less horrific.

Placing a hand on Ichijou's shoulder, pulling the detective back behind him, Godai shakes his head. If Yuusuke felt the need to retreat back to _this_place, Godai's going to be the first one through that door.

The cell hasn't changed much. The floor's clean now, all traces of blood long since washed away. The walls glimmer and glint, like black jewels, in a way that would be almost beautiful if Godai didn't know what they were for.

Onodera Yuusuke lies curled in the far corner of the room. There aren't any shackles left—Hikawa and Ryou had seemed to take pleasure in ripping the cursed things out of the wall—so there's nothing to hold him in place. His arms lie over his head, making it hard to get a good look at his face, but his chest rises and falls in the calm, even pattern of deep sleep.

Stepping into the room, Godai moves toward his younger brother. A wave of exhaustion rushes through him, almost causes him to sway on his feet, but he tries to just ignore it.

This isn't like last time. He isn't going to spend months locked in here with Onodera, with madness and grief and misery.

Though he would, if he had to. As awful as some of the times they've had have been, he would do them all again in a heartbeat.

His feet have slowed with his wandering attention, and Godai shakes his head, blinking his younger brother into focus again. Ichijou's in the room, too, kneeling down at Onodera's side, but that's fine for now. There's no heat, no power, no sense of danger in the room right now.

Just a deep sense of exhaustion, tiredness beyond anything Godai's ever felt before, and he puts out a hand to lean surreptitiously against the wall.

The thief stands frozen in the center of the room, his eyes locked on Yuusuke. "Is he… he's not hurt, is he? He's not dying or anything?"

"We can't die." Sliding down against the wall, Godai takes Onodera's hand, lifting it gently. It feels heavier than it should, heavier than he remembers just about anything feeling, but that's all right. He can just let both of their hands lie against the ground, and then there's no need for strength. "We're functionally immortal, according to Tsubaki. Not invulnerable, we can be hurt and we can be killed if the amadam or the arcle's damaged badly enough, but he's pretty sure that we can't really die otherwise."

"Yuusuke." Ichijou shakes the young man's shoulder gently, but there's no response.

There's no blood, though. Godai's grateful for that. His brother isn't hurting himself, because that would be just about the saddest thing he ever saw. No injuries mean that there's nothing that they can treat, though, nothing that they can bandage or kill or even really fix. There's just soul-scars, old and new, bloody and half-forgotten, and sleeping isn't a bad way to deal with those.

Sleeping isn't really a bad way to deal with any of it. Dreams could be dangerous, sure, but there's a deep sleep, an exhausted sleep, that's free of even dreams. Maybe it's even good for him, after everything that's happened…

"Godai Yuusuke!" Ichijou's hand connects with Godai's face, a hard, fast slap.

Forcing his eyelids open, Godai frowns at the other man. "What?"

"You weren't responding to me." Ichijou frowns down at Onodera.

Onodera continues to breathe, deep and even, a soft cadence to follow, and Godai can feel his breathing pattern matching the younger man's.

He doesn't mean to close his eyes.

He doesn't intend to fall asleep.

It's just so… peaceful. A calm amidst all the storms, the worries, the fears, an escape from the exhaustion that seems to be pressing down on him from all angles, and it shouldn't be as hard as it is to open his eyes.

It really shouldn't be as hard as it is to respond to Ichijou's frightened voice.

That's what calls him back, in the end. Resting may be tempting, but he can't leave Ichijou in trouble.

"Come on, Godai." Ichijou's hands lift under his arms, steady, determined, and after what feels like far too much concentration Godai manages to get his feet under him.

Ichijou apparently isn't satisfied with that, though, insisting on dragging him forward, dragging him away from Onodera, and that isn't right. Tightening his hold on the younger man, Godai tries to find the words to explain what he needs to do.

Apparently talking and walking aren't things that can happen at the same time right now, though. He's not sure exactly how he ended up on the floor again, but it's better sitting than standing, anyway.

"Damn it, Godai, let _go_." Ichijou's fingers pry between Godai's and Onodera's, gradually separating them. "Kaitou, help me!"

"I can't." The thief shakes his head, backing up a step. "I told you, I'm not a hero, I'm not _anything_, I'm just a thief, and—"

"_I don't care!_" Ichijou's words echo in the cell. "I'm getting Godai out of here. Help me get them separated. Then you can do whatever you want."

Ichijou's scared. The thought penetrates through the fog of exhaustion and fatigue slowly, and Godai manages to sit up a little straighter, using Ichijou for leverage. "It's all right. We're all right."

Kaitou laughs, the sound a mocking echo that sounds far too much like sobs as he sits down next to Onodera. Ichijou doesn't say anything, continuing to pry at Onodera's fingers.

Fingers. Right. He should open his hand, let Onodera's fingers go.

That's what he intends to do, at least. That makes it very surprising when he manages to open his eyes again, especially since he doesn't remember them closing.

"Godai, please help me." Ichijou's almost pleading, something like desperation in his voice. "I need you to walk for me. Just walk. Stay awake and walk. Please?"

He should be able to do that. It's really not asking that much of him. Frowning in concentration, he focuses on standing. After a few false tries, he manages to stand shakily, using Ichijou as support.

Each step he takes is a monumental effort. Pure exhaustion seems to weight all his limbs, to make thinking difficult and movement almost impossible.

Walking away from Onodera makes it that much harder. He shouldn't leave the man here. He can't abandon him, no matter how bad things get. They're two sides of the same coin, the same soul battered by the world in different ways, and he needs to help the younger man. He needs to—

"Come with me, Godai." Ichijou somehow manages to make the sentence both a command and a plea. "He's all right. I'll come back for him. Trust me. This is the best thing for everyone involved."

Nodding, Godai rests his head against Ichijou's shoulder and lets the detective guide his steps.

It's all right to leave Yuusuke right now, wrapped in the peace of dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXXX

"Stay with him."

The detective calls the command over his shoulder, most of his attention clearly on the half-conscious man leaning against him.

He says it in the right tone, though, with that ring of authority that calls up the past, makes the thief's muscles twitch to obey before his conscious mind remembers that he doesn't listen to orders anymore. "Why should I?"

"Because it's what you wanted." Ichijou's tone is almost gentle, his words softened further by his facing the door while the thief faces Yuusuke. "Because I'm worried that if we don't wake him up soon, we might not be able to. I can't make you stay or help, though. Do what you have to do, Kaitou Daiki."

It's clearly a dismissal, the last thing the detective says to him, and the thief stares down in morbid fascination at Yuusuke's face.

Yuusuke's arm has been moved away from his face by Godai grabbing at his hand, revealing his expression. It could be peaceful. Maybe it even is peaceful, just resting, finally, after everything that's happened.

It doesn't look peaceful to the thief, though. It looks… empty. Drained.

Lost.

"Yuusuke." Grabbing the other man's shoulder, the thief shakes it fiercely. "Yuusuke, wake up."

There's no response. That isn't right. Yuusuke doesn't sleep that deeply. He's always one of the easiest to wake. While it's sometimes possible to sneak up on Tsukasa while he's sleeping—_was_sometimes possible—the thief had never really managed it with Yuusuke. There had been times when he was comatose, sure, when he'd managed to get himself beaten into the ground, but he didn't just sleep like this, unaware of his surroundings.

"Yuusuke, _wake up_." The thief shakes the smaller man harder, clutching Yuusuke's shoulder with all the force the fingers of his right hand can manage. "This isn't funny. You're scaring Godai and Ichijou. Come _on_, Yuusuke."

He doesn't think before slapping Yuusuke. The thief just acts, riding a wave of fear and frustration that he doesn't want to acknowledge. The crack of his palm striking the unresponsive man's face makes him flinch, and he pulls his right hand back to his chest as though it burns.

Yuusuke's skin isn't hot, though. It's cooler than the thief's ever felt it, almost cold, has more in common with the room air than with the thief's own skin temperature.

A wounded animal's cry fills his ears, and it takes the thief longer than it should to realize that _he's_making the sound. Once he realizes that he makes it stop, but he's shaking fiercely, and even if he had to he's not certain he could hold one of his guns.

"What do you want from us, Kaitou Daiki?"

The words are a whispered monotone, lacking any of the force or emotion that usually fills Yuusuke's voice. His eyes are barely open, slits showing only the darkness of a dilated pupil.

"Yuusuke." The thief's fingers grab the other man's hand, holding it tightly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Yuusuke's eyes close again, his words becoming even quieter. "Just… sleeping. So we can't hurt anyone. Our choice."

"No!" Shaking Yuusuke's shoulder until he opens his eyes again, the thief shakes his head. "I don't understand, but I don't like the sounds of it. You need to be awake, Yuusuke. You need to go with Godai and Ichijou. They're worried about you."

"I'm tired, Kaitou." The words are still whispered, but there's anguish in them now, a deep, bottomless weariness and pain that makes the thief shiver. Yuusuke's eyes are actually open now, though, and his skin feels warmer, like it should.

"Yeah?" Sitting back on his heels, the thief shrugs. "We all get tired, Yuusuke. Work through it."

"For how long?" Yuusuke's arms rise to cover his face and head again. "How long do I have to keep fighting before I can either win or lose, Kaitou? I don't _want_to hurt anyone. I'd rather die or sleep my way through eternity than hurt anyone, especially you. But it's so hard. It's so easy to lose control, to slip, to underestimate things."

"Everyone has to deal with that." The thief doesn't meet Yuusuke's gaze. "Everyone has to live with the ability to hurt someone. Whether it's a pet or a child or a friend or a lover or a parent, everyone has the potential to badly hurt someone else. You've just got—"

"The ability to destroy cities." Yuusuke's arms slide down, revealing a broken smile. "The ability to burn anything I see and sometimes things I can't. Nightmares that make me want to kill things, panic attacks that mean I can never let my guard down, a monster inside me, and the only way to really control it is to do this. You were right, Kaitou. You can't reclaim the past. Covering up the blood doesn't make it go away. Just like covering up and hiding the problem doesn't solve it. So let me solve it."

"So you're a coward, then?" He bites out the words, yanking his hand away from Yuusuke. "All this work that the Riders put in was for nothing, because you're too much of a coward to actually try."

"No." Shaking his head, Yuusuke closes his eyes. "They tried. I'm grateful that they did, because it means I was only DaiShocker's toy for forty-six days instead of forever. Some battles you just can't win, though. Would you tell Godai and Ichijou I'm sorry?"

There's no defensiveness, no pain, no anything in his voice anymore. Just quiet acceptance, and it makes the thief want to hurt him. "Tell them yourself. Leave me to do it, and I'll tell them you hate them both, that you wish they had left you in this cell forever."

"They know I couldn't ever hate them." Yuusuke smiles slightly. "Ichijou has Yashiro's soul. I could never hate that. And Godai has my soul, but he's managed to keep it a lot… cleaner than I have. So I can't hate him."

"You can't do this, Yuusuke." It sounds like he's pleading, and the thief stops, draws a ragged breath. "If you do… this, what happens to the photo studio?"

Yuusuke shrugs. "Someone will find it and use it for something."

"And Tsukasa and Natsumi?" The thief's hands are both balled into fists, the nails of his right hand digging into his palm, the weakness of his left hand painfully obvious as it continues to refuse to respond correctly despite his fury. "Who's going to remember them? Who's going to… to…"

"It's over, Kaitou." Yuusuke's fingers move slowly, brush across the thief's knee. His words are soft and slurred, barely recognizable. "Take care of that shoulder, and have a good life."

"_Don't leave me alone!_"

The words are a desperate howl, the cry of a grievously wounded animal, and for a moment all the thief can do is wonder at them. Is that really his voice? Is that really his emotion?

Yuusuke's arms are wrapped around him, holding the thief tightly to the smaller man. Yuusuke's gentle, careful, both of Yuusuke's arms under the thief's and barley any pressure on the left side of the thief's body. Avoiding his injuries, avoiding hurting him any further, and the thief shakes his head.

"Kaitou, it's all right." Yuusuke pulls back slowly, staring at the thief through his too-long hair. "I'm sorry. I thought you wanted me to—"

Barking out a laugh, the thief shakes his head. "You thought I wanted you to commit suicide? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but that's what it sounds like you were doing."

"Not… quite. I wouldn't die." Yuusuke's left hand moves to cover where the amadam lies, Kuuga's source of power. "I can't die. Or, well, it would be really hard to kill me. But I can… turn myself off, I suppose. I can sleep, until someone else that Kuuga chooses comes near."

"Which isn't damn likely to happen if you're buried in this cell." Glaring at Yuusuke, the thief tries to ignore the remaining tremors running through his body. "So, you were trying to commit suicide. Of all the stupid, dumb, selfish—"

"I killed Tsukasa." Yuusuke's gaze darts up, meets the thief's, and then falls again. "I thought you were angry about that."

"I'm…" Slinking back a step, the thief shakes his head. He doesn't do things like this. He doesn't sit with people and talk about what happened and what he feels and what he wants to have happen next. He runs, from one place to another, and usually it's fast enough to keep the past from catching up. "I don't care. It doesn't matter. Someone was bound to kill Tsukasa eventually. He was incredibly good at making enemies."

"You were trying to save him." Yuusuke closes his eyes, his head hanging down. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't been there—"

"You and Natsumi were the best things he ever did." The thief keeps his eyes down, fixed on the ground. "He… when I first met him, when he was DaiShocker's Great Leader, he was… fascinating. Powerful, arrogant, brash, brave, curious… but not kind. Never kind. Usually not cruel, or at least not maliciously cruel, but not kind. He didn't understand well enough to kind or cruel. The two of you… you made him human, while still letting him be Tsukasa."

(_"I was human before, you know."_

_"Hush, Tsukasa. Let them talk."_

_Whispers, fragments, figments just on the edge of hearing, but it's good to hear their voices._)

"I hated him at first." Yuusuke lifts his head slowly, studying a point just behind the thief's shoulder, a slight smile on his face. "He was so confident and cocky. I was so scared he was going to do my job better than me, and that then I'd lose my place with Yashiro. She was pretty much the only thing I had left in my world. Everyone else I cared about had either died or… I didn't handle losing my little sister well, and I pushed away the people I had left during that. So being Kuuga and being Yashiro's pet warrior were really important to me. When he _hit_ her, made her bleed… I'd say I've never been so angry in my life, but that wouldn't be true anymore. I _hadn't_been that angry before, though. I really wanted to hurt him."

"Tsukasa is—_was_—good at making people want to hurt him." The thief finds his mouth turning up into a smile.

(_"I am not."_

_"Oh, yes you are."_

_The half-heard peels of forced laughter are familiar, hauntingly, aching familiar, and the thief's breath catches in his throat for a moment._)

"Natsumi did pretty good at keeping him in line." Yuusuke smiles, running a hand through his hair. "When he was in my world, after the two of us tried to ki—… after Tsukasa and I fought, Yashiro took me over to the side and was chewing me out and Natsumi had him a few meters away and was chewing him out. I think she was the only person in the multiverse who would have just stood there and told him how wrong he was, without flinching or worrying and without hating him for being himself."

"Not for long." The thief finds himself smiling, thinking back on the times he watched Natsumi corral DaiShocker's Great Leader. True, she didn't know for the first few months of their travels that he _was_ an evil overlord, but it still entertains him. Especially since she didn't really change her tactics or her tone once she found out. "You were also pretty good at getting him to do stuff, you know. I think you're the only person I've ever known who could just tell him that something was the right thing to do and he'd try to do it. You got him to _care_about doing the right thing, you and Natsumi, and that's… an achievement."

("_You were quite the little psychopath when Kaitou met you, weren't you?"_

_"I was raised by Shadow Moon, Apollo Geist, and a bunch of monsters from the different worlds I visited. What do you expect?"_)

Silence stretches between the thief and Yuusuke, and the thief finds himself staring at his hands because he can't meet Yuusuke's gaze. "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Yuusuke hugs his knees to his chest, resting his head on his knees.

"With you, with this whole mess, I don't…" Letting out a deep sigh, the thief shakes his head. "I'm not a hero, Yuusuke. I'm not even a halfway decent person anymore. I'm just a thief. And that… that isn't what you need."

"Says who?" Yuusuke tilts his head slightly. "You're my friend, Kaitou. That's all I've ever wanted you to be, and that's all I'd ask of you now."

"You deserve… something else. Someone better."

"Considering what you were just saying about my former roommate, I'm not sure—"

"You're a good person, Yuusuke." Meeting Yuusuke's gaze, the thief clenches his right hand tight again. "You've always been a better person than Tsukasa or I deserved to have as friends. I thought for sure he was just playing you like a fiddle when I first met you, that he'd end up breaking your heart and soul when you found out what he was and how he was using you—"

(_"Careful, Kaitou, what wounds you bring up in here." Tsukasa's voice whispers the caution in his ear, though that isn't possible, and the thief's words stumble to a halt as heat washes over his skin._

_"It's okay, Yuusuke. That's it. No fire. No pain. You're safe."_)

"But he wasn't. And you didn't." The thief stumbles to a halt, trying to sort out the words in his head. The temperature in the room seems to rise and fall unexpectedly, and he brushes his hair out of his eyes. "But I'm not like Tsukasa. I know all about morality. And I know that it doesn't work. I know that the monsters can't be destroyed, no matter how many you kill. I know that even when you're trying to do the right thing, working with all your might to fix things, you can end up…"

Yuusuke's arms have ended up around him again, and the thief leans against the other man and closes his eyes. He shouldn't want this. He shouldn't need this. It shouldn't matter.

"I can't…" The thief's right hand clenches tight in Yuusuke's shirt. "I can't stay in that house with you. I can't be a hero with you. I can't fix anything."

"You don't have anything to fix, Kaitou." Yuusuke pulls back enough so that their eyes can meet. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't do things right." Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, the thief tries to pull away from Yuusuke.

Yuusuke doesn't allow it, though, his hold firm and determined despite its gentleness. Eventually the thief just stops struggling.

"Godai told you I tried to come get you." The thief knows that's true, because otherwise Yuusuke wouldn't have known about it. He still waits for Yuusuke's nod before continuing. "I tried to get you the day before they… the day before _it_happened."

There can really be only one _it_for both of them, at least right now, and the thief keeps his eyes down to avoid seeing the realization dawn on Yuusuke's face.

"So they used you to kill Tsukasa." The thief's nails are digging into his palm again. "But it was because of what I did. So it really, really isn't possible for me to play the hero now, and I understand if you're angry, and—"

Yuusuke doesn't say anything. He just hugs the thief fiercely.

(_"This is really getting annoying, you know. Does this mean I have to feel bad about my own death, for not doing enough to prevent it?"_

_"Shut up, Tsukasa."_

_"I mean, he shot me in the head before! He's threatened to kill me multiple times! This is just—"_

_"Tsukasa." There's a warning inherent in those tones on that name._

_"Fine."_)

"I know nothing's going to be the same." Yuusuke's voice is a rough whisper in the thief's ear. "I know it can't be. I know I'm a mess still—you've seen that clearly here. I don't blame you for what happened. I'd never blame someone for trying to save people. The only ones responsible for what happened were the scientists who did it and the leaders who gave them free reign."

"I killed them, you know." The thief's voice cracks slightly. "Everyone who escaped from the Riders, the ones who had Tsukasa's cards and DecaDriver and the notes about what he could do and about… about what they did to you. I killed them and took it back. They don't deserve it. It's my treasure."

"Oh, Kaitou."

Anguish, sorrow, morbid amusement, love, kindness, all wrapped up in his name, and the thief raises his head slightly.

"I can help, Kaitou." Yuusuke's fingers rise hesitantly, brush at the thief's bangs. "I can be here for you. I can help with… with jobs like that, taking things from people who shouldn't have them. And I can give you somewhere to come, when you want to. And I can be… I can be me, just like I'll let you keep being you. If you want. If it would help."

"I don't…" Shaking his head, the thief shrugs helplessly. "I don't know what to do now."

"Come with me." Yuusuke's hands settle on the thief's shoulders, avoiding the burn, a feather-light touch on the left side. "Let me take care of you, let a doctor take a look at that arm before you lose it. Then… you can do whatever you want. What do you have left to lose, Kaitou?"

He's already lost two of the most important treasures he ever had. His hands start trembling again, violently, and the thief manages a slight smile. "My composure."

"What?" Puzzlement flashes across Yuusuke's face.

"That's the only thing I have left to lose." When Yuusuke smiles a self-deprecating grin, the thief uses his right arm to pull him in close again. "And you. Two things, I guess, that I have left to lose, because my faith and my purpose died a long time ago."

"It's going to be all right, Kaitou."

"I miss them." The words are almost incomprehensible, broken into fractured syllables by ragged breathing and a tongue that doesn't seem to work right. "I never thought… after everything that's happened… I miss them."

Yuusuke's voice is a quiet whisper. "I miss them, too."

He tries to fight the tears. He blinks them back, bites his tongue, tries every trick he has to keep them from falling.

It doesn't help. Somewhere those simple words have broken a floodgate, and for the first time since _it_happened Kaitou Daiki cries, giving voice to the pain, the grief, the rage, an utterly incomprehensible mixture of emotions.

(_"It's all right, Kaitou." Tsukasa's voice is a whisper of cold air against his ear, Tsukasa's lips a brush of ice through the tears on his cheek. "Take care of yourself, so you can take care of my world."_

_"We loved you, Kaitou." Natsumi's fingers are frost running through his hair, her lips a chilly nip against his forehead, wildly different from the heat that pours off Yuusuke. "Don't ever forget that, or that you were worth every bit of affection we ever gave you."_)

Kaitou knows they aren't real. He knows that ghosts aren't things that actually exist, and that the people he's hearing have been dead for the better part of half a year.

He doesn't care.

Just like he doesn't care if Godai and Ichijou see the evidence of tears on his face as Yuusuke helps him stand and walk toward the door of the cell.

Somehow, for the first time in a long time, it feels like things might actually one day be all right.


	7. Epilogue: Healing

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kamen Rider; Toei does.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading this far! I hope that people enjoyed. This is the last story planned in the "Shades" universe, but if anyone has any requests I'd certainly be open to considering them.

"_Scars show us where we have been. They do not dictate where we are going." –David Rossi_

_Epilogue: Healing_

The photo studio appears without warning, slipping in between a coffee shop and a hair salon as though it's always been there. The fangires notice it almost immediately, hyper-aware of anything having to do with inter-world travel after everything that's happened in the past, and that means that Wataru knows about it almost immediately.

The barely-teenaged king stands on the sidewalk, staring at the sign for long minutes. _Hikari Photo Studio and Coffee Shop_. Why didn't they change the name? Should they have changed it? Should he go try to talk to whoever's left inside, or will that just make things worse?

Eventually he goes in, because Yuusuke might be inside, and Yuusuke still owes him a trip to wherever he wants to go.

It looks different. All of the furniture's new, and it's arranged in a completely different pattern, a handful of small tables set against one wall with the photography backdrops against the other wall. The backdrop showing is a gorgeous night sky, an aurora borealis playing in the upper left corner, a sliver of moon in the right corner.

He barely has time to take in the setting before Yuusuke comes out of the kitchen. The man doesn't look as different as Wataru had expected. Not that he really knew what to expect, given the unpleasantness of the rumors—death, starvation, torture, mental abuse, possession, madness, with each new iteration of the story that Wataru hears worse than the last. Those kind of things didn't always leave physical marks, especially not on Riders, but Wataru still expected there to be… something.

Yuusuke's hair is long, held back in a ponytail, except for his bangs. Those hang loose on either side of his head. Yuusuke's smiling in greeting when he emerges, a bright, happy expression that fades for a moment as he studies Wataru and then reappears as something sadder but more personal. "Hi, Wataru. You've grown."

"You recognize me." It's a foolish thing to say, and Wataru finds his eyes dropping to the floor and his hands clenching together in a very un-monarchial way.

"Of course I do." Yuusuke has a tray with coffee and two cups on it, and he gestures toward one of the tables. "It hasn't been that long. What, three years? Maybe hedging onto four now, but not that long. I think you hit a growth spurt somewhere in there, though."

Raising his eyes briefly, Wataru realizes with dismay that he's practically the same height as Yuusuke now. "Yeah. It's… awkward."

"It'll make it easier for you to do that kingly I'm-looking-down-on-you pose." Yuusuke grins, setting the two coffee cups on the table. "Do you drink coffee? Are you old enough now?"

"Yuusuke, I'm king. I think that alone should qualify me as old enough to drink coffee." Sitting down opposite Yuusuke, Wataru studies the liquid in the cup. "This is hot chocolate, though. So that makes the entire conversation a moot point."

"Maybe." Yuusuke's grin has a sly edge to it. "I might have noticed you standing in front of the studio, scaring off anyone else who might want to come in."

"Sorry." Sipping at the liquid, Wataru continues to snatch glimpses of Yuusuke's expression. "I was just… wondering if you'd want to see me or not."

"We're friends, Wataru." Yuusuke shrugs. "Of course I'd want to see you."

"I know about—" Wataru pauses as Yuusuke's expression freezes, the man's breathing taking on a deep, steady, unnatural rhythm between one breath and the next. "Yuusuke?"

"I'm all right." Yuusuke smiles at Wataru, both his hands flat on the table. "Sorry. Just… preemptive control. I'm not sure what you're going to say about… all that, and I'm not risking burning anything or anyone for no reason."

"Oh." That doesn't really make anything clearer, and Wataru tilts his head to one side and then the other, studying Yuusuke. "I'm sorry. I'm sure it was all awful, and you probably don't really want to talk about it and are really sick of people telling you that they're sorry, but I just… wanted to say that. That I'm sorry, and that I'll miss Tsukasa and Natsumi too. They were kind to me, even when I didn't think I deserved it. Tsukasa really seemed to understand what it was like, being a monster and being afraid of yourself, and he wasn't intimidated by the fact that I was the fangire king, and the three of you… ah, I'm doing this all wrong."

Yuusuke shakes his head, that same smile on his face, happy but with an edge of sorrow. "There's no wrong way to tell someone you're grateful and that you're mourning the loss of good people."

"I think all of my assistants would argue with you about that." Taking another drink, Wataru raises his head and stares determinedly at Yuusuke. "But that is pretty much what I wanted to say. I appreciate all that you guys did for me and my people when we first met. I'm sorry about how things went during the Rider War. And there aren't enough condolences in the world to express how deeply sorry I am about what happened to Tsukasa, Natsumi, and you during… a few months ago."

"I appreciate it." Yuusuke's eyes have fallen to his cup, cradled now in both hands. "They would, too. Were you there when…?"

"No." Shaking his head, Wataru studies the table uncomfortably. "They didn't invite any of us, at least not at first. There's kind of a… a division, I guess. The people Tsukasa met before you, and the ones he met after you, and we don't always get along as well as we could."

"Why?" Yuusuke looks honestly puzzled.

"Maybe the fact that they call us all 'alternates' has something to do with it." Shaking his head, Wataru sighs. "Though some of us are just as scathing about them. Blade's partners can be pretty… mean, but in a petty sort of way. They don't like being looked down on."

"No one likes being looked down on." Yuusuke frowns, his fingers tapping on the table. "I'll talk to Godai about it. There shouldn't be divisions between Riders. We should all work together, if we can. They're nice, some of the alternates. Godai's fantastic, and Nogami, that's Den-O, I think any version of him is destined to be kind, and—"

"We'll work on it." Wataru speaks quickly, but with a gentle edge, cutting off the almost manic flow of information.

"Yeah." Yuusuke draws a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "Sorry. I just… thinking of them, or their connections, I think of either the Rider War or… that cell. I know I shouldn't, that I should be able to think of them getting together and put it in a positive light... hell, it _was_a good thing the last time. They saved me. But I... I'm sorry, Wataru. There are just a lot of... bad memories that I'm still learning how to deal with."

That just might be the biggest understate Wataru's ever heard, but he simply nods, allowing silence to stretch into the gap for a few moments and erase any remaining tension.

"Are you running this place by yourself now?" Scanning the room, Wataru raises his eyebrows. Hopefully this is a safer subject, a better subject, because he didn't come here to hurt Yuusuke.

"Not entirely by myself." Raising his head, Yuusuke also looks around the room. "Kaitou Daiki—that's DiEnd, in case you're not as familiar with him—he helps me out sometimes. He's a really good cook, actually. People like his baked goods. But for the most part, yeah, it's just me now."

"So it really is a café now as well as a photo studio."

Yuusuke laughs ruefully. "Yeah. If people keep assuming it's going to be a coffee shop, might as well make them happy. There're meal and picture bundles, in case any of your people are interested in having their pictures taken."

"Would you take mine?" Sitting up straighter, Wataru nods toward the backdrop. "I like that picture."

"Sure." Standing and heading toward a solid wood cabinet, Yuusuke gestures for Wataru to move in front of the backdrop. "Yours is going to be on the house, though. A fellow Rider discount, if you want to think of it that way."

"That's not—" Frowning, Wataru shakes his head. "I have the money, Yuusuke. I'm king. I could probably buy the whole studio and no one would bat an eye."

"You can try that if you want." Yuusuke lifts a complicated black box that is probably a camera out of the cabinet. "You're just not buying this photo. Now, would you like it to be a picture of human you, Rider you, or that cool in-between form that you have, the one where you've got the stained-glass bits and the human bits?"

"I…" Wataru finds his face warming, and he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away. "You think I look cool like that?"

"I think you look cool doing just about anything." The black box is indeed a camera, and Wataru's hesitant glance back toward Yuusuke shows him setting it up on a tripod. "Do whatever feels right to you, Wataru."

They end up taking dozens of pictures. Yuusuke poses him while he's human, directing him to smile or to put on his best stern King face. He snaps pictures during Wataru's transformation, grinning all the while, not put-off by the comingling of human and Fangire characteristics. Once Wataru's shaken off the heady rush of power, the feeling of invulnerability that always comes with transforming, Yuusuke poses him in his Rider form, directing him to crouch like he's attacking or stand proud or, once, skip around ridiculously.

It's fun. Wataru's used to his picture being taken for promotional purposes, to use to show the King's position or to show the King's strength. He's used to reporters trying to catch him in undignified or compromising positions. He's not used to working with someone who honestly likes him and clearly enjoys what they're doing, and he's laughing in breathless joy when they finish and he allows Kiva's armor to fall.

"Now, if you'll be kind enough to follow me." Yuusuke leads the way into what used to be the dark room, taking a small computer chip from the camera before they go.

Wataru stares at the computer and the printers that fill the now brightly-lit room.

"These might be kind of awful." Yuusuke makes the admonition with a sheepish tilt of his head, sending his free bangs down to hide his face. "I helped Natsumi and Eijiro before, but I'm still getting used to doing it all on my own, and sometimes… well, we'll see."

Some of the pictures are, indeed, awful. Others, though, are beautiful, capturing Kiva's fierce beauty, making Wataru look like a king among the stars and not a child playing at the position, and Wataru eagerly selects the ones he wants.

Until they scroll through the ones from him transforming, and he grabs Yuusuke's hand to keep the image from changing.

It's just one picture. One out of dozens, and maybe it isn't what he thinks it is, but his breath still catches hard in his throat. Wataru stands mid-transformation in the center of the screen, the stained-glass proof of his Fangire heritage coursing up his neck, across his face, down his hands. He looks grim, determined, proud, resolute, but that isn't what catches his eye. That hint of blue, a shortened muzzle and pointed ears baying at the moon on the left-hand side; that touch of green, an eagerly pointing hand reaching for the aurora on the right; that touch of purple right above him, arms crossed over an immense chest, determined to provide protection to his king…

They've been dead for over four years. It doesn't quite hurt, exactly, but there's a fierce ache in the center of his chest as Wataru studies the photo. "Print this for me. Please."

Yuusuke does as he asks, the other Rider's face closed-off, any emotion impossible to read.

The ghosts show more clearly once the photo's printed, and Wataru holds the image gingerly by the edges, staring at it in open wonder. "Yuusuke—"

"I'm sorry." Yuusuke's head hangs down, his bangs hiding his expression. "It just happens sometimes, and I should have expected it and prepared you but—"

"Thank you." Laying a hand gently on Yuusuke's shoulder, Wataru smiles at the older man. "I've wondered what they would think, if they would approve of what I've done as king, and I think… this is my answer. They would approve. They would be happy with what I am."

"Of course they would be." Yuusuke raises his head, expression puzzled. "Why wouldn't they be? You're fantastic, Wataru."

"It's hard being king of a people that see other sentient, sapient beings and have a gut reaction of _food_. It's hard being one of them." Wataru studies the photo in his hands again. "But I do the best I can, and hope that it's good enough."

Yuusuke nods, reaching out to lay a hand on Wataru's shoulder. "That's really all any of us can do."

"I am going to pay you for these, you know." Wataru stands. "They're worth it, and this is a great gift."

"Tsukasa says you're welcome." Yuusuke saves the pictures, removes the camera's memory card, and stands.

"Is he…" Wataru hesitates, glancing around. "Can you—?"

"No." Shaking his head, Yuusuke smiles wistfully. "Not for a while. But I apparently inherited more than the photo studio and his ability to walk between worlds."

"I don't know about other people, Yuusuke, but this…" Wataru clutches the picture closer to his chest. "I wasn't expecting it. I didn't really need it, I suppose. But it still… it makes things better."

Yuusuke slips the memory card back into the camera and pauses, eyes on the floor, hands tense. Then he raises his head and smiles, one of the pleased, guileless expressions that Wataru knew set Yuusuke apart from the first time they met. "That's really all we can ever ask, I suppose. To make things just a little bit better."

"How much do I owe you?" Reaching into his wallet, he frowns, wishing he kept more hard currency on his person.

"Go talk to Godai or Hibiki or Nogami or Hikawa or any of the ones Tsukasa met first. Keep in touch with all of the ones that came after you. If there are any new ones, any we don't know about, find them and teach them. Do what you can to heal the gaps in our defenses." Yuusuke's expression is completely serious. "That's all I ask of you, Wataru."

Wataru nods, because he can't quite manage to talk, words tangling in his thoughts and on his tongue.

He still leaves what money he has with Yuusuke, because the man deserves it and likely needs it.

He'll do what Yuusuke asked him to, though.

How could he not?

XXXXXXXX

The photo studio's quiet once Wataru leaves, a quiet that still feels unnatural to Yuusuke despite the months that have passed.

Not quite an empty quiet, though, and Yuusuke waits until the other man's only a meter or so behind him to speak. "I know you're there, Kaitou."

"Damn." The thief curses, his footsteps becoming louder, and arms wrap around Yuusuke from behind. "I'm going to catch you one of these days, you know."

"Maybe when you learn how to fly. And not breathe." Yuusuke skips saying anything about being in a coma or dead. Some things they still don't joke about—maybe won't ever be able to joke about again. Twisting out of Kaitou's grip, Yuusuke turns to greet him with a smile. "Welcome home."

"I've only been gone for a few hours." Kaitou shrugs, moving away and sprawling in one of the chairs. His right hand goes behind his head; his left lies across his stomach. Though it's improving, bit by bit, it's possible his left arm won't ever be as strong as his right. "I got bored, decided to see how this world was. I don't think I've ever been here, actually."

"No." Sitting down in the chair across the table from Kaitou, Yuusuke shakes his head. "We came here before we met you."

"You really shouldn't try to give things away, you know." Kaitou's tone is half-mocking and half-chastising, making it almost impossible to determine if he's being serious or not. "How are you going to meet your financially dubious repayment plan with that kind of strategy?"

"Wataru's a friend, Kaitou. And he's barely fourteen, if that."

"He's a king. If you can't charge a king an arm and a leg, who can you price-gouge?" Straightening, Kaitou settles both arms down on the table, leaning toward Yuusuke. "If I leave you alone, you're going to end up giving away the whole damn shop."

"That's not true. I would never give the shop away." Leaning forward to meet the thief's gaze, Yuusuke grins. "What does a thief know about selling things, anyway?"

"If you don't know what a treasure's worth, you're not a very good thief." Kaitou also leans forward, narrowing the space between them until it isn't even ten centimeters. "I know exactly how much my work and yours is worth, and I intend to make sure that you get proper payment for it."

"Uh huh." Nodding, Yuusuke pulls away slowly, half-reluctantly. "Guess you're going to be spending a lot of time here, then?"

"I'll be here enough." Kaitou leans back slowly, an expression that could almost be wistfulness on his face. "Enough to make sure you don't get yourself in trouble, one way or another. You're what's left of Tsukasa's world, after all."

It doesn't sting anymore, like it did the first few dozen times Kaitou referred to him as that. It's still not right, not the way Yuusuke really wants Kaitou to refer to him or think of him, but it's what Kaitou needs right now.

Just like this play-flirting, this banter back and forth, is what Kaitou needs right now.

They're both still broken. It's obvious to Yuusuke anytime he takes a moment to relax, to think back on what's happening, to consider the future. They're seizing onto things with a desperation they didn't have before—Kaitou to his world-hopping, Yuusuke to the photo studio. Their relationship with each other has changed, sometimes strained, sometimes strengthened, brought closer by the shared pain and pushed apart by the agony and always glued together by the memories of their missing companions.

He knows the thief will probably stay for the night. There's a fifty-fifty chance he'll end up sleeping on blankets on the floor where Tsukasa's bed used to be despite the perfectly good couch and the perfectly good guest bedrooms the studio has. He knows Kaitou will almost certainly disappear in the morning, wander off to another world, Diend in his jacket and no real destination in his mind.

Yuusuke also knows the thief will come back, probably not too late in the day. He doesn't ask where Kaitou goes. It doesn't really matter to him, as long as Kaitou comes back and doesn't get himself hurt in the process.

"We're doing all right." Yuusuke whispers the words to his hands, looking up in dismay as soon as he realizes they were audible.

Kaitou doesn't run, though. He doesn't look away, or protest one way or the other, or drop his eyes, mentally flinching back.

Instead the thief considers the words for a moment before nodding, a slight smile on his face. "Yeah. We're doing all right."

"Everyone's doing all right." The words aren't quite a question but not quite a statement. They're a plea for confirmation, something he would do with Godai or Ichijou, and he almost panics. It would be so easy for Kaitou to—

"We're doing all right." Kaitou stands slowly, levering himself up determinedly with his left arm despite the grimace it brings to his face. "And every ghost and living creature that we care about seems to be doing all right. That's what you need, right?"

"Yeah." Hanging his head down sheepishly, Yuusuke nods. "Thank you, Kaitou. That means—"

"Come on." Kaitou's hand closes around Yuusuke's, drawing him to his feet. "You haven't had lunch yet, right? I'll cook for you."

"Ah. Thanks." Allowing himself to be pulled back into the kitchen, Yuusuke smiles at Kaitou's back.

Things aren't perfect, no. Maybe things will never be perfect. Maybe perfect died with Tsukasa and Natsumi.

But they're doing all right.

After everything they've been through, Yuusuke's perfectly willing to settle for that.


End file.
